All These Things
by misslucy21
Summary: If you can, hold on.... sequel to The Edge of Darkness
1. Chapter 1

All These Things

by misslucy21

* * *

AN: Here we are with part 3 of what seems to have become a series. If you haven't read Blind Memory or The Edge of Darkness, I really suggest you do so first. These are all Lost Son AU.

* * *

In our wheels that roll around  
As we move over the ground  
And all day it seems we've been  
in between the past and future town

We are nowhere, and it's now  
We are nowhere, and it's now

"We Are Nowhere and It's Now", Bright Eyes

* * *

Horatio sighed as he slumped back into his desk chair. If the last six weeks hadn't been the worst in his life, they were ranking up in the top 5. He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, pull his pillow over his head and never wake up. It was a futile desire, though; he hadn't slept more than four hours a night since the warehouse. He was being stretched in too many directions and so he barely slept and only ate in an attempt to calm the gnawing of his stomach. It usually didn't work, and he'd lost weight. Not a lot, just enough to make the waistband of his pants looser where it had been snug. Enough to move his belt buckle over a notch. Probably a good thing, actually, given that he was getting to that middle-age metabolic slowdown point, anyway. Not like Speed, whose ribs and collarbones now showed through his shirts.

Thinking of Speed made his chest tighten. His friend was still in a world of hurt. It made Horatio's heart ache to look at him, to hear his slurred speech. But Horatio forced himself to go over there two nights a week and sit up with Speed for a couple hours. They didn't talk much- Horatio didn't think Tim talked much at all anymore, really. Usually they watched a movie, but even that was hard for Speed to take anymore. He flinched at loud noises and bright lights. But Horatio knew Speed needed his support. And maybe more than that, Calleigh needed a break. She'd all but moved in with Speed at this point.

At least Calleigh had been back at work full time for the past two weeks. That helped. But then…then there were the new people. Horatio sighed as he put his head down on his desk. The new people. He'd hired three rookie CSIs. None of the lab staff had wanted to move up into field training, so he'd had to hire outside. Since none of them had hardly any real experience, he'd hired three of them. He'd never replaced Megan, anyway. And it had become apparent within a week that he desperately needed to hire people. Losing Eric was incredibly difficult- he'd been a good CSI and a good friend, and Horatio missed him deeply. And he knew that losing Calleigh was very temporary- as soon as Tim was able to be on his own for hours at a time, she had come back to work half-days. But it was really losing Speed that had brought out the desperation. Horatio hadn't realized just how much work Speed did. That fact was hammered home two days after Tim had left the hospital, when Carrie came up to him all a-fluster because the mass spec was malfunctioning, and "Speed just does something to it, and I don't know what he does, and it's broken, and I need it!"

After calling the manufacturer help line and discovering just how Speed fixed the mass spec (apparently, it was a combination of resetting the cylinder and rebooting the machine), he'd sat down with Carrie, Valera, Sam and Tyler and made them come up with a list of everything Speed or Eric had done that no one else either knew how to do or was assigned to do on a regular basis. The list for Eric was a reasonable, but not overwhelming length, and mostly aquatic centered. The list for Speed, however, was two pages long and included everything from fixing the mass spec to ordering supplies, to backing up databases. Horatio had blinked at it in disbelief; he'd known Speed worked long hours and worked incredibly hard, but he had no idea just how many things on top of his caseload the younger man had just taken over without complaint when Megan had left. Or even before that, in some cases. There were apparently benefits to having an insomniac working for you. He needed to get people into the lab but fast, or else none of them was going to be getting any sleep, apparently.

So he'd hired three people: Jack Maret, Kiara Johnson and Scott Henson. And just as he was trying to figure out how to train all three of them at once, two members of the night shift showed up in his office one morning. He'd been staring at the computer when Kara Whittier and Valerie Hamilton just…appeared.

"We're your saving graces," Kara had said cheerfully. "We're transferring temporarily to whip your trainees into field shape."

He'd blinked at them. "You are?"

"Yup," Valerie said. "I'm only going to stay until I go on maternity leave in six weeks," she explained, rubbing her very pregnant stomach, "but Kara will stay at least until Calleigh comes back to full time."

"Maybe until Tim comes back, too, if you still need me," Kara said, nodding. "But we ought to have the three newbies mostly up and running by the time Val goes."

"Besides, it's something new for us. We've always worked night shift and we've always worked with Manny. Time for a change," Valerie said.

"Right. And we know y'all would do the same for us, if we needed it," Kara said. "So, where should we start?"

And they had been saving graces. They'd completely taken over training the new people, and just having that pressure lifted from him meant that he could actually almost do his job. Almost. He couldn't catch the people who'd put them all in this position in the first place. And that was most of what kept him up at nights; the fact that his promises were going unfulfilled. Unfulfilled promises, and a nagging sense of dread that he couldn't place.

A ping from his email program made him raise his head to look at the computer screen. The subject heading made him sit up and peer at the screen: "Is this your man?"

He opened the email and found a camera phone photo, along with a message that read:

Horatio- Saw this guy outside the post office. Sorry for the bad photo, but description matches the one you sent. White male, 6'2-6'3, 230-240lbs, prison built, sandy brown hair. Don't know if it's anything, but might help. – Ronnie Jackson.

Ronnie Jackson had been a detective with the MDPD until about four years ago. His wife had died of cancer and he'd taken their two small children back to the town where he'd grown up in North Carolina where his family could help him raise them. He'd kept in sporadic touch over the past couple of years, and when Speed had finally been able to be calm enough to give Horatio something resembling an actual description of the man with the blue tattoo, Horatio had emailed it to Ronnie, along with everyone else he had a contact with in law enforcement. The description was almost a match to Andrew Markham, but it was too vague to warrant an APB, and too vague to really be certain. But it was enough to ask people to keep their eyes open if they were so inclined. It was a long shot, Horatio knew, but it was all he had. And now it looked like the long shot might have paid off…

He pulled Jackson's number from his contacts list and punched it into his phone. Jackson picked up on the second ring. "Jackson."

"Ronnie? It's Horatio Caine. I got your email," Horatio said.

"Hey, Horatio. I'm glad you called. Look, sorry for the crappy photo, but I had one of my kids with me and I didn't really want to attract attention," Jackson replied.

"I understand completely," Horatio nodded. "Can you tell me anything else?"

"He's not from around here, I can tell you that," Jackson replied. "I didn't hear him say anything, though, so I couldn't tell you where he's from, but he just stuck out for some reason. We're not so small that I know everyone on sight, but you do kind of get a sense of who belongs and who doesn't, you know?"

"I know what you mean," Horatio agreed.

"Well, he just didn't fit. Which is why I noticed him in the first place, and then I thought that he kinda fit your description, so I snapped his photo quick-like, and when we got home, I double-checked your email, and sent it to you."

"Ah," Horatio said. "Did he have a blue tattoo anywhere you could see?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't tell. Where is it supposed to be?"

"That's the problem. I don't know, and if Speed's remembered anything beyond the fact that the blue tattoo exists, he hasn't told me," he sighed. That was the sticking point. Speed insisted there was a tattoo. He just had no idea what it was a tattoo of or where on his assailant's body it was located. Pushing him just led to panic, so Horatio had dropped all mention of it.

"How is Speed, anyway? Is he back to work yet?" Jackson asked.

Horatio winced. "No. He's not likely to be back until after the first of the year. He was very badly injured."

"Must have been, to keep him out that long," Jackson said in a tone of wonder. "Damn, I wouldn't have thought anything could keep that guy down."

"We wouldn't have either until now, really," Horatio admitted. The thing that worried him the most was that Speed wasn't even whining about the enforced absence from work. At least not to Horatio.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not more help," Jackson said. "Hang on a second…Michael, I am on the phone, I'll sign off on that later…yes, go play Nintendo…Sorry," he said.

"No, no problem," Horatio said. He frowned at the photo again. "How long a drive is it up there, anyway?"

"To here? 'Bout 16 hours. Why, you gonna come up?" Jackson asked.

"Maybe," Horatio mused. "This is the best thing I've had so far."

"There's an airport at Asheville," Jackson said. "It's not far away."

"Driving is easier on the budget," Horatio explained.

"Right," Jackson said. "Well, if you are coming up, be careful. It might just now be November, but we're in the mountains up here, and it's cold already."

"I'll bear it in mind," Horatio said. "If we do come, I'll call you back."

"All right, man. Just let me know, I can find you a place to stay and all," Jackson offered.

"Will do. Thanks, Ronnie," he said.

"No problem. Have a good one," Jackson said.

"You too," Horatio said, hanging up. Where was Calleigh? He wondered. He was going to need her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Time for the final bout.  
Rows of deserted houses..  
All our stable mates are highway bound.  
Give us our measly sum:  
Getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly.  
We're starting out with nothing but crippling doubt.

"Stability," Death Cab for Cutie

* * *

Calleigh was logging bullets in the ballistics lab when Horatio walked in. "Hey," she said, glancing up briefly.

"Are you busy?" he asked.

She looked at the pile of evidence envelopes in front of her and the bullet log on her computer screen. "Somewhat. What's up?"

"You remember Ronnie Jackson?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, still typing away. "Why?"

"He sent me something. I think it's The Guy," Horatio said.

Calleigh looked up at him. She could hear the capital letters in his voice. "The Delmarco case?" she asked, knowing she was wrong.

"No. Eric and John and Speed," Horatio said.

She took a deep breath. "How do they know?"

"Well, they don't. I mean, he's not in custody. Ronnie saw someone matching Tim's description," Horatio explained.

Calleigh didn't reply immediately. Tim's description was so vague as to be almost entirely unusable. She knew that. Horatio knew that. Hell, the Mouseketeers knew that, and they were all barely Level 1s. "Horatio," she said, slowly. "Tim's description…"

"I know, I know," Horatio said, waving her objections aside. "But I think there's something there. And it's the best lead we've gotten. He's got to have left Miami, it's the only thing that makes sense. There's too many people here with a vested interest in finding him."

She wondered if he realized how much he sounded like an obsessed Tim right now. She'd always known Horatio could get just as obsessive as Tim did, but he was usually…more subtle about it. "All right," she said. "So it's possible that our guy is somewhere in…South Carolina?" she asked.

"North Carolina, and yes," he nodded.

"Well, I don't exactly see what we're going to do about it, unless they can catch him running a red light or something," she said, turning back to the bullet log.

"We're going to go check it out," Horatio said.

"We are?" she asked, looking up from the keyboard.

"Yes. It's a 16 hour drive, if we leave this afternoon, we'll be there by tomorrow," he replied.

"Horatio…" She stopped before saying _this is a wild goose chase._ "I don't have any leave time left on the year," she temporized.

"You don't need any. It's work. I'm going to go tell the Captain right now," he said.

"Horatio, this is just barely on this side of sane, and I really…I really don't know that the Captain is going to go for this." she said, finally. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Calleigh, I made promises," Horatio said, softly. "I promised Eric's parents. I promised Speed's parents. If I'd ever met them, I'd have promised John's parents. I have to go. I don't have a choice," he said.

She could hear the anguish in his voice, but she had to try to dissuade him one last time. At least to not leave the lab without either of them. "You're going to leave Kara in charge by herself? Valerie's last day is tomorrow, you know."

"Kara will be fine. Manny will help her if she needs it," Horatio said. "I need you, Calleigh. None of the rest of them have the experience for this."

Calleigh sat back and sighed. It was clear that Horatio was going, regardless of any objections she might have. It was also clear that he absolutely should not be going alone. "All right," she acquiesced. "Give me an hour or so to go and pack some things and tell Tim he's on his own a couple of days."

"Meet me at my place by 3," he said, and was gone in an instant. She sighed and saved the bullet log. This was _not_ going to work.

Fifteen minutes later she was in her car heading for Tim's house, dialing Alexx on her cell phone.

"Alexx Woods," Alexx answered.

"Hey, it's me," Calleigh sighed.

"What's wrong, baby?" Alexx said, immediately.

"Horatio has a wild goose chase in his sights and he won't be persuaded. He needs me to go to North Carolina with him. Could you possibly stay over with Tim, or maybe talk him into staying at your place for a few nights?" Calleigh asked. "He's ok during the day, but I don't think he's quite ready to be on his own completely."

"Oh, Lord," Alexx sighed. "I somehow knew this was going to happen with Horatio. This has been eating him up."

"I know. He can't go on his own. He really can't. And there's no one else to go with him, really. I'm the only choice," Calleigh said.

"Yes, you are," Alexx said. "You take care of Horatio, I'll take care of Timmy. No problem."

"Thanks, Alexx. That'll help."

"I'd have done more sooner, if he wasn't so freaked out by the idea of my family right now," Alexx sighed.

"He doesn't want to scare the kids," Calleigh said.

"I know. Oh well, we'll manage. Don't worry. Anything I ought to know?"

"Nothing really new. He's supposed to be back to most solid foods this week after the implants, but he's not really interested in much more than soup right now," she replied.

"Ok. I can work with that. Are you going to tell him where you're going?" Alexx asked.

"Yeah. And why. I don't want to lie to him. I think that would be worse in the long run," she said.

"I agree. Ok, honey, you call me later and let me know what's happening," Alexx ordered.

"Yes ma'am," Calleigh said. "I'll talk to you later," she said as she hung up. She'd reached the house by then.

She opened the door and found Tim curled up on the couch with a cat, playing a video game. "Hey," she said.

He hit pause on the game and looked up at her with concern. "'s early," he said.

"I know. Listen, something's come up," she said, taking a deep breath. He just looked at her, waiting for her to go on. "Horatio got a lead. He needs me to go with him to North Carolina to check it out."

"On what?" he asked.

"On you," she said, softly, watching his face. He looked back towards the television. "It's probably nothing, but he thinks it might be something." He still didn't say anything. "I don't want you to…get your hopes up, is all," she said finally. When he still didn't respond, she sighed. "I have to pack." She stepped over the controller cord and went down the hall to the spare bedroom. Most of her clothes were here now. She threw things into a bag quickly, and then went through the kitchen to the laundry on the breezeway to retrieve some things from the top of the dryer. Tim could move clothes from the washer to the dryer, but he still wasn't allowed to lift the laundry basket to put them away.

She didn't even notice that she never heard the video game music start back up until she walked back into the living room and found Tim sitting on the couch with a duffle bag next to him. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him. He even had his shoes and jacket on, which simply shocked her. She didn't know how many battles she'd fought over him just putting his shoes on to leave the house. And here he was sitting there ready to voluntarily leave the house for the first time in nearly six weeks, just when she didn't want him to. "What's this?"

He licked his lips and looked up at her. "I want to go with you," he said, enunciating carefully. That gave her pause as well. Tim preferred not to talk right now, and most of the time, when he did talk, he didn't speak clearly. She knew it was because it was difficult for him to do so, since his jaw was still out of alignment, and she'd gotten good at figuring out what he was saying, but it could be a little frustrating. If he was enunciating what he was saying, then it was really, really important.

"Tim," she sighed. "You can't. It's work. You're nowhere close to being cleared to work," she said, trying to be reasonable.

He shook his head. "I want to go with you," he repeated. She made a small frustrated noise and started to repeat that he really couldn't, when he interrupted her. "I don't want to be alone, I want to go with you."

She stopped. Not only was he speaking clearly, he had looked right _at_ her when he'd said he didn't want to be alone. And he had actually _said_ he didn't want to be alone. He'd _never_ said it. She'd known anyway, but he'd never said so in as many words. She closed her eyes. What the hell was she going to do now? "You won't be alone, Alexx will stay over," she said, finally. He shook his head. She sighed. Now what? He kept looking at her. It was unnerving to actually have him do that; she'd gotten so used to him looking past her or away from her. "All right," she sighed, rubbing at the headache forming along her right temple. "You can come with me to Horatio's, at least. We'll ask him. But if he says you can't come, then you really can't. I _have_ to go, there isn't anyone else to do it, ok?"

"Ok," he said.

"Ok," she said. "Do you have all your medication?" she asked, finally.

"Yeah," he nodded. "The protein drinks, too," he added.

"You _were_ serious," she said, surprised. The protein shakes were the only thing keeping his weight even halfway stable, and he hated them. He nodded. "All right, come on, then. I told Horatio I'd be there by 3." She shrugged into her jacket and led them out to her car. This entire enterprise just got better and better, she thought. But…well, maybe this was better, in some ways. She could keep an eye on the both of them, for once. Maybe this could work, after all…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Help me out  
Yeah, you know you got to help me out  
Yeah, oh, don't you put me on the backburner  
You know you got to help me out

"All These Things That I've Done," The Killers

* * *

Tim snuck a look at Calleigh as she drove towards Horatio's condo. She was tense and unhappy and he felt bad, because he knew that it was partly his fault. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

She glanced at him. "Then why don't you stay here?"

"No," he said.

"All right," she sighed. "But I really do not understand why the first time you actually _want_ to leave the house is the only time I really would rather you stayed home."

He shrugged. He didn't know that, either. "Are you going to tell Horatio not to let me come?"

She didn't answer immediately, but eventually she shook her head. "No. I'm not," she said, looking at him.

"Oh," he said. "Ok." She shook her head bemusedly and turned her attention back to the road.

Horatio was putting things in the back of his truck when they pulled up to his driveway. He glanced up and seemed startled to find Tim sitting in the passenger seat. Calleigh sighed again and said, "Wait here," as she got out of the car.

He couldn't hear what Calleigh was saying to Horatio, but he could tell they were arguing about it. He wasn't entirely sure if they were arguing about him or about the trip in general. Calleigh didn't seem any too happy about picking up and driving to North Carolina, with or without Tim along. The argument seemed to subside, and Horatio looked over Calleigh's head at her car and said something before walking towards it.

Tim swallowed hard. He hoped Horatio didn't ask him why he wanted to go. He didn't have an answer. All he knew was as soon as Calleigh told him where she was going, he knew he had to go too. It wasn't entirely that he didn't want to be left alone. It was almost more that he didn't want to be left behind. But he didn't know how to explain that.

Horatio opened the car door and regarded Tim wearily. "Speed," he started, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Tim nodded and forced himself to look _at_ Horatio. Looking at people was hard. Some days he could barely manage to look in someone else's general direction, let alone directly at them. He knew it was a depression thing; he'd always had a hard time meeting people's eyes when he was having trouble with that.

"It's going to be a very long drive, you know that, right? And Calleigh says you're allowed to drive right now, so you're not going to be much help. And I shouldn't really take you to begin with, since you're not at all cleared to be doing this. It could cost your job, you know. I could be in a great deal of trouble if I let you come along," Horatio continued.

"I know," he whispered. "I don't…I'm ok with taking the chance with my job, but I don't want to get you into trouble," he admitted.

Horatio regarded him for a long moment, then sighed. "You won't touch _anything_ that could remotely be considered evidence. Nothing. I'm completely serious about this, Tim. I can't lose this case on a technicality."

"I won't," Tim nodded. He understood that.

"And you do what you're told," Horatio said. "That means you eat and rest."

"I will," he nodded again.

"All right. Come on, then," Horatio sighed.

Tim didn't wait for another response, but followed Horatio to the truck and climbed into the back seat.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

When you come back down  
If you land on your feet  
I hope you find a way to make it back to me  
When you come around  
I'll be there for you  
Don't have to be alone with what you're going through

"Come Back Down", Lifehouse

* * *

They'd been on the road for almost five hours and still weren't out of Florida. Calleigh wasn't sure she'd really known how long it took to cross Florida lengthwise. Or how long it took to go north, in general. The furthest north she'd ever been in her life was Memphis, and she had a feeling this trip was going to go beyond that point.

"We ought to stop and eat sometime soon," she said, breaking the silence, as she twisted in her seat to glance back at Speed, who was curled up in the back seat asleep. "He's out now, but he really needs to eat soon."

"I was thinking of stopping outside of Jacksonville," Horatio said. "That ought to be in another 20 minutes or so."

"Perfect," Calleigh said, stretching. "Jacksonville ought to be a good choice, because we could stop at a grocery store, too, and get some stuff he can eat, in case we have trouble finding someplace later on." The protein shakes would only last so long, and she hadn't quite considered how difficult it might be to find food Tim could eat right now on the road. If she had, she might well have put her foot down altogether about the whole idea of him coming along.

"He's eating real food again, isn't he?" Horatio asked.

"Sort of. He can, if he wants to, but he's still having a lot of trouble with things that need to be chewed a lot, like meat, so fast food is kind of difficult, since most of the menu is pretty much out, yet. Soup is good- it's about all he's been eating, although I did talk him into half of a grilled cheese sandwich the other night with the soup. But it's hard to get him to eat a full meal anyway, because his appetite is completely gone," she sighed.

Horatio nodded. "How did you get so good at this?" he asked, suddenly.

"Good at what?" Calleigh looked at him, confused.

"Being a caretaker. I'm not surprised, but…" Horatio shrugged, unsure how to finish.

"But it's the role you've got Alexx in, in your head," Calleigh finished.

"Yeah," Horatio nodded.

"Alexx would have done most of it, if Tim would have let her, but he didn't want to take her away from her family," Calleigh explained. "It helps that he trusts me, too. But, well, you're right."

"I am?" he shook his head. "How so?"

"I did have to get good at it somewhere," she smiled a bit sadly. "You know about my parents, right? I've told you about them?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you did."

"Did I ever tell you about my brothers?" she asked.

"I don't think so, no," he replied.

"Ah, well, you see, it's like this…."

vvvvv

_April 1998, New Orleans_

"Calleigh, I need your help." Her younger brother's voice sounded strained and tired.

"What's the matter, Kenny?" she asked, concerned.

"Jeff…well, he's getting worse. I think it's not just the alcohol anymore. He's acting like…well, you know how Daddy is on a bender? He's like that, only more aggressive," Kenny replied.

"I see," Calleigh sighed. She'd known for awhile that her youngest brother Jeff probably had a drinking problem. It wasn't as though it was completely out of the realm of possibility that one of the three Duquesne children would become an alcoholic at some point. Not with their parents genes and example. "What kind of drugs?"

"I don't know. I mean, I think it's more than pot. Who doesn't smoke pot, you know?" Kenny said.

"Plenty of people, but go on," she replied.

"Right, well, anyway. I don't know."

"Have you seen any track marks?" she asked.

"Like, from a needle?" Kenny asked.

"Yes, Kenny," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't think so. How would I know, anyway?" Good question. And one she hadn't really expected an answer to. In her experience with the New Orleans PD, only the truly desperate shot up in places where the tracks would be noticeable.

"All right. What do you want me to do about it?" She really doubted there was anything she could really do. She'd never been able to convince either parent to quit drinking, she highly doubted she could convince Jeff. But if it would make Kenny feel better and stop calling her at 2am when she had to be on shift at 5am, she'd do it.

"Emma and I think we should have an intervention," Kenny said. "Can you come over tonight?"

"I thought Jeff and Emma broke up?" she said.

"Not entirely. She just said she wouldn't see him if he was drunk, not that she wanted to break up altogether."

"Much the same thing, isn't it, anymore?" Calleigh sighed. "Ok, I get off at 5, I'll be there by 7."

"Thanks, Calleigh Mae. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, Kenny. Now, I'm going to go back to sleep, ok?" she said.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Kenny at least had the grace to sound abashed.

"It's all right, little brother. I'll see you tonight," she said, hanging up before he could say good bye. An intervention. Good Lord.

vvvvv

"Was he on drugs?" Horatio asked.

"Oh, yeah. He was snorting coke. I found that out later. The intervention went about as well as you might expect an intervention cooked up by two 21 year old kids following a script they got out of a library book would go." Calleigh said, somewhat amused.

"In other words, not that well."

"Heh. No, not that well."

vvvvv

Three months passed, and Jeff still refused to talk to any of them since the intervention. Calleigh didn't entirely blame him, but it was irksome, nonetheless. She'd finally told Kenny to give it up and go the Al-Anon meetings on campus to get some support, because she really wasn't in much of a position to help him.

"Will it help?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. Sort of, anyway, she added mentally. She'd never found them to be terribly helpful, but maybe things had changed in the two years since she'd graduated.

"Maybe they'll know what to say to him," he said.

"Maybe," she said. "But really, Kenny, I think you need to let him go his own way. He'll come back when he's ready." She still didn't entirely think there was much going on outside of booze.

That opinion changed abruptly one morning at 3am when she received a visit from Steve Carroll, a narcotics detective she was friendly with.

"Calleigh, we busted a coke party tonight, and one of the people we found says he's your brother," Steve said, standing outside of her apartment. He handed her a billfold, which she opened to find Jeff's ID.

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"I didn't book him. I brought him to you, you know, as a professional courtesy. I really can't do this more than once, Cal. If we pick him up again, I gotta book him," Steve said, regretfully.

"I understand. And I really appreciate it, Steve. I'll take care of it," she said, grimly. "Thank you, really."

"No problem. And I don't think anyone else noticed, either, so I think I can keep it under the radar, ok?"

"Thank you," she said, again, following Steve out to his car. She opened the car door. Jeff was sitting there sullenly. "Come on," she said, stepping aside to let him out of the car.

She said nothing until they were inside her apartment. "Jeffery, I do not know what you were thinking. I do not care what you were thinking. This ends now. It ends tonight. Do you understand me?"

"What business is it of yours," he said, sullenly.

"_You_ made it my business when you used my name, boy, so don't you get an attitude with me. You could have gotten me in some serious hot water, do you know that? This could mean my career, Jeffery. Did you even think of that? You're damn lucky that the person you mentioned me to happens to be a friend of mine, because otherwise, I might well be about to be hauled into an internal affairs investigation right about now. You are my responsibility now, and this ends now," she said angrily. "You lost the right to decide, boy."

"Calleigh," he whispered. She looked at him and saw that he was crying. "I didn't know what else to do. I was scared."

"You should have been scared," she said.

"I don't…I can't stop," he said, looking up at her. "I can't, I really can't."

"You can. It won't be easy, but you can," she said.

"Can you help me?" he asked.

She sighed and sat down next to him. "I can help you, yes." She put her arm around him and let him cry. "Shh, baby, it's ok, I'll help."

vvvvv

"So you helped," Horatio said.

She sighed. "Yeah, I did. He really didn't want to go into treatment, so I took care of him. Withdrawal was not pretty. Seriously, nothing I've done for Tim even comes close to _that_ horror. Finally, when it became obvious that I really wasn't going to be able to handle it on my own, I dragged him to the ER. They admitted him to their treatment program and he was there for 90 days."

"I imagine that was difficult," Horatio said.

"It was. I visited every week he was allowed visitors. He worked damn hard in there. But I think he resented me putting him in there in the first place. I know he resents the fact that Kenny and I tried to railroad him into getting clean when he wasn't ready and he _really_ resents the hell out of the fact that _Kenny_ wound himself up with a drinking problem even after all this. Jeff feels that was pretty damn hypocritical. He doesn't really talk to either of us anymore. I can sort of understand why. I don't like it, but I understand it. So long as he's staying clean, I'll let him do whatever he wants to do with regards to family. We're not exactly the healthiest bunch for a recovering addict to be around anyway, what with Daddy still not on the program and Mama barely on it. Jeff does send me a card every July on the anniversary of the night he wound up on my doorstep and I called an end to it all. And if that's all I ever hear from him, then that's ok with me. I just need to know he's healthy and safe," she said.

Horatio nodded. "I never realized any of that. I just…well."

"You thought I was just being codependent with my father," she said, nodding.

"Sort of, yes," Horatio admitted.

"You're not really wrong. I think…I think because of what happened with Jeff and then getting my mother dried out for the most part the next year and then what happened with Kenny, although his wife dealt with most of that- I was in Miami already, I just don't think I have the strength to do it again with my father. But it's not really co-dependency, exactly. I don't have hardly anything to do with him when he's drinking. I only pick him up if they call me, and I only do that because otherwise he gets into real trouble. I've tried just having them call the cops and taking him to the drunk tank, but he gets belligerent when the cops get involved and honestly, I don't need the aggravation. So I pick him up and drop him off at home and barely speak to him unless he's sober. And he knows that's the limit to what I'll do for him when he's drunk. If he's sober, I'll do anything he needs me to do. Otherwise, he just shouldn't call," she explained. She was quiet a moment. "John always thought that was enabling him. And he was probably right. But you know, what else am I going to do?"

"No, I understand," Horatio said. "Out of curiosity, does Tim know about any of this?"

"Yes, he does. There's not much about me that Tim _doesn't_ know. He certainly knows more about me than I know about him. He's a very good listener. And who the hell else is going to be awake at 2 am when I need someone to go help me drag Daddy out of a bar in a sketchy part of town? Sometimes, having an insomniac for a friend is helpful, you know- he's almost always still awake and more than willing to be my backup. And he's willing to do it even if he wasn't awake. Actually, that's almost better, if I do wake him up. Trust me, no one is going to mess with Tim if it's the middle of the night and he's been woken up. They take one look and decide that they've got something rather urgent to do anywhere but there," she laughed. "That was the other thing John and I fought about, actually. He thought that if I was going to be enabling my father that I ought to be calling him, not calling Tim, for help. I told him that Tim had been helping me out with this sort of thing for years and there was no reason for me to call him and wake him up when I knew Tim was going to still be awake anyway. He didn't like that answer. Probably didn't help that he never did like Tim, anyway."

Horatio nodded. "Probably not." They were quiet for a moment, before Horatio pointed at a sign. "This exit look ok?"

She squinted through the darkness at the sign listing available food at the next exit. There was at least one "real" restaurant listed. "Yeah, it'll do," she said. She turned around to wake Tim up as Horatio merged into the exit lane.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

Another head aches, another heart breaks  
I am so much older than I can take  
And my affection, well it comes and goes  
I need direction to perfection, no no no no

Help me out

"All These Things That I've Done," The Killers

* * *

Horatio glanced over at the other bed in the small hotel room before turning on the television. Speed was still asleep- he'd woken up for dinner, and stayed awake through the next three hours of driving, but had all but crawled into the hotel room and passed out when Calleigh had finally convinced Horatio that they really ought to stop for the night. Calleigh had told him not to be concerned about waking Speed up, and not to be worried that he was so tired. "He's really not getting enough calories to fuel his body, so he gets tired easily. Don't worry about it, he's fine. And don't worry too much about waking him up. The medication he's on keeps him pretty well out when he does fall asleep. It's supposed to."

"Ok," he'd replied. But it was still a bit unnerving to see the usually restless insomniac so sleepy. Horatio wasn't ready for bed yet. He was still too keyed up, despite having been on the road for nearly eight hours already. He settled back onto his own bed and flipped through the channels, hoping to find something vaguely worthwhile to watch.

The television had about lulled him to sleep when he was startled by a sudden movement on the other bed. He sat up and looked over to find Speed trying to shove his covers away frantically. "Speed?" he asked, tentatively. "Are you all right?"

"I didn't, I don't, I won't!" Speed yelled, suddenly. He wasn't awake, Horatio realized. It was a nightmare.

Horatio got up and rounded the corner to crouch down by the bed, "Hey, there, easy, buddy, it's ok. Wake up, Speed, it's ok, you're safe," he said, reaching out to touch the other man's shoulder. "It's ok."

He was startled again when Speed's eyes snapped open, staring in wide eyed, sightless terror. "I didn't…don't hurt me, please?" he pleaded. He was breathing hard and his hands were clenched in the covers. "I don't, please, I can't…"

The terror made Horatio's stomach suddenly feel like he'd swallowed ground glass. It was horrifyingly familiar and he faltered before reaching out again to shake Speed's shoulder. "Tim, it's ok, no one's going to hurt you," he managed. "Wake up, now, ok?"

Speed blinked, and almost focused. "H," he said.

"Yeah. You're safe," Horatio said.

"M'k," Speed said, his eyes dropping shut as he relaxed suddenly. Horatio wasn't entirely sure he'd really even woken up. But he was quiet now. He remained crouched by the bed for another moment to make sure Speed was calm, but then he moved away. He shivered, suddenly and reached for the door, needing fresh air.

He'd settled himself on the stairs leading down to the parking lot before he let himself take a deep shaky breath. _Oh, God_, he thought. He'd just figured out what the vague uneasiness about Speed was. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his forehead on them.

"Horatio?" It was Calleigh. "Is everything ok? I heard Tim yelling," she said, sitting down next to him.

He raised his head and rested his chin on his arms. "He had a nightmare."

"Oh," she said. "God, I'm sorry, I should have warned you. They haven't been happening quite so often lately, so I forgot. He's a little scary when that happens, I know," she said. "If it helps, they're not a new thing. They're really night terrors, and his parents told me he's had them off and on since he was about a year old. They get worse when he's under a lot of stress. Did you wake him up?" she asked.

"I don't know, I tried to," he said. "I don't think he really woke up."

"Probably not. He usually doesn't. I'm sorry, I should have told you. Usually, if you tell him he's ok, that it's fine, he calms right down, but sometimes, he doesn't. If it happens again, you can come get me and I'll deal with it," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I don't…maybe…" Horatio trailed off. "He looked like Ray. That's what he looked like at the scene, too. Just terrified."

Calleigh reached out and started to rub his back. "I think they might be scarier to watch, almost, especially since _he_ doesn't usually remember them in the morning," she said, quietly. "But what do you mean he looked like Ray? I don't understand."

Horatio shook his head and closed his eyes. Calleigh didn't push, but kept rubbing his back in gentle circles. "I don't know, did I ever tell you what happened to my mother?" he asked, finally.

"Not really," Calleigh said. "I know she's passed on, but I don't recall you ever saying when."

"She was murdered," he said, softly.

"Oh," Calleigh said. "When?" she asked, after a moment.

"A long time ago…God, it's nearly 30 years," he said. "I was 17." He was quiet a moment, lost in the memory.

vvvvvv

It was late winter and he was holding the feet of Ben, one of his teammates as he did sit-ups. Track training had started this week, bringing a bit of welcome respite for Horatio. During Track season, he only had to focus on school, Track and the paper route during the week. He only worked at the grocery store on the weekends. It was a bit of a break for him, and he was really looking forward to it. "Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one…" he counted for Ben.

"Horatio Caine!" The stern voice of Mrs. Harker, his English teacher, cut across the gymnasium and interrupted his counting. He glanced up towards the doors and found her standing with one of the assistant coaches. She beckoned him towards the door.

"Sorry, Ben, I'll be right back," he said, pushing off the floor.

"Sure," Ben replied, breathlessly, before falling back to lie still and catch his breath.

Horatio frowned as he neared the doorway and saw his little brother standing there next to his teacher. "Ray, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I found him being bullied by a couple of the freshman boys," Mrs. Harker said. "He said he was just looking for you."

"Mom's not home. I can't find her," Ray added. It was clear he'd been crying.

"Well, she's probably just late getting off work, Ray," Horatio said. "That's all. Why didn't you just go to the library to look for her?" Their mother was a librarian. It didn't really pay very well, but it meant she could be home when Ray got out of school. At eleven, he wasn't entirely old enough to be left alone yet.

"I did!" Ray protested. "They said she'd gone already."

"Then she's probably at the store," Horatio sighed.

"Horatio, why don't you go on with your brother and find your mom," Coach Milo said. "We'll count you as present today."

"All right," he nodded. "Thank you." He turned back towards Ray. "Come on, I have to get my street clothes," he sighed, steering his brother towards the locker room.

Ray stood silently as he changed his clothes. "What happened to your shirt?" Horatio asked, suddenly noticing how filthy his younger brother's clothes were.

"Got in a fight," Ray mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

Horatio sighed angrily. "Ray, that's the third time this month! You've got to learn to walk away from these people!"

"I tried, but they were makin' fun of my clothes and sayin' they came outta the rag pile and, and, I just got so upset!" Ray said.

Horatio shook his head. "Ray, ignore them. They aren't worth getting upset over." He wasn't unsympathetic. It seemed that fifth grade in the new middle school was harder than he'd had it. The middle school was in a more affluent neighborhood than the Caines lived in. It was hard for Ray to go from the neighborhood school where everyone was more or less in the same boat as far as money to the middle school, where many of the kids came from families with considerably more money. But Ray really did need to learn to stop fighting.

"I know. I tried, Horatio, I really did," he said, pathetically.

"All right," Horatio relented. "But you'd better hope I can get that shirt clean, because I don't know when we're going to be able to replace it, otherwise." Money was always tighter in the spring when he ran track, but his mother insisted it was important for him to have something he liked to do. Especially since it was possible that running track might just get him a scholarship, and that was his only chance at college.

"I know," Ray said, shamefacedly as they started walking down the street towards home. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It's ok. But really, Ray, walk away. Maybe I ought to go talk to your teacher or something."

"No, it's ok. They'll never leave me alone then," Ray said, gloomily.

"All right. I won't then," Horatio said. "What else happened today?" he asked. Ray told him about the rest of his day as they walked the rest of the way home.

When they reached the house, their mother still wasn't there. "See, I told you," Ray said.

"Ok, fine," Horatio said, absently. It really wasn't like Mom to not be home when Ray got there. And it was even less likely that she wouldn't be home if Ray had taken the time to go to the library and then all the way to the high school to look for Horatio. He unlocked the door and let them in. "Go change your shirt and bring it here so I can soak it," he directed as he walked down the hall to the kitchen to see if she might have left a note. There was no note. "Huh," he said, frowning. He picked up the phone and dialed the library.

"Thank you for calling the library, this is Helen speaking," his mother's supervisor's voice answered the phone.

"Mrs. Bratton? It's Horatio Caine. Is my mother there?" he asked politely.

"Why, no, Horatio, she left a long time ago. Right when she should have. Isn't she home yet?" Mrs. Bratton responded.

"No, she wasn't here when Ray got home," he said.

"Well, I don't know where she could be, then," she replied. "I'm sorry, honey, but she's not here."

"She must have just gone to the store," Horatio said. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"Oh, it's no bother. You have a good night, and tell your mother I'll see her in the morning when she comes home," Mrs. Bratton said.

"I'll do that. Thank you, ma'am," he said, hanging up. Ray reappeared in the kitchen with his shirt. "Good. Go on and start your homework, ok?"

"Ok," Ray said, sitting down at the table with his school bag. "Do you know where Mom is?"

"I'm sure she's just gone to the store. Maybe she needed to go to the bank first or something and got delayed," he said, turning to the fridge to start dinner. There was a casserole that his mother had put together the night before on the bottom shelf. He heated up the oven and put it in before joining Ray at the table to do his own homework. At least getting out of training early meant that he'd have some extra time to get things done. That would help. He'd grown to appreciate little bits of time.

Horatio didn't really start to worry about his mother until after he'd made sure Ray's homework was done, fed them both dinner and made his brother take a shower and get ready for bed.

"Horatio, why isn't Mom home?" Ray whined.

"Ray…" he said, half exasperated. "I don't know, kid," he said, finally. "I just don't know."

"Did she leave? Like Daddy?" Ray asked. Their father had walked out nearly five years ago. One night, he just didn't come home, and they had no idea where he was until their mom received a letter one day nearly three months later saying he was never coming back.

"No," Horatio said firmly. "I honestly don't know where she is, Ray, but I'm absolutely sure that she has a very good reason for not being here. She wouldn't leave us alone if she could possibly help it." It was not a comforting thought, but it seemed to make Ray feel a bit better. "Look, why don't you go on to bed? I bet she'll be here when you wake up in the morning," he said, at a loss for what else to do.

"I'm scared," Ray said.

"I know. It's ok. I'm going to be right here, ok? You go on to bed, it's going to be ok," he said. Ray nodded and went upstairs to his room. Horatio sat down in the living room with the book he was reading for English class, but he couldn't concentrate. He was beginning to wonder if they should call the police. He tried to remember how long Mom had waited when Dad didn't come home that night. He remembered the police being involved, but no one had really told him much of anything at the time. Well, he'd only been twelve. Hardly older than Ray. At the time, he remembered being frustrated, but now that he was partly responsible for Ray, he understood just how young twelve really was.

A knock on the door startled him and he got up to answer it. He opened the door to discover two police officers standing on the stoop. "Hello?" he said.

"Is this the Caine residence?" one of the officers asked.

"It is, yes," he said. "Can I help you?"

"Is your father home, son?" the other officer asked.

Horatio frowned. "My father doesn't live here. I don't know where he is," he said, honestly.

"Does a Rosa Caine live here?" the first officer asked.

"That's my mother, yes," he said.

The two officers exchanged a look. Horatio made a quick decision and stepped outside onto the stoop, pulling the door closed behind him.

"I'm sorry, my little brother is in bed, I don't want to wake him," he explained.

"No, no, that's fine," the first officer said. "Son, my name is Detective McDavies and this is Officer Hart. We think we may have some bad news for you."

Horatio nodded slowly. "About my mother."

"Yes," Hart said. "We think she may have been killed."

Horatio leaned against the door, squeezing his eyes shut. He was shocked, but not entirely surprised. In the back of his head he'd known that was almost the only reason his mother would not have come home and not have called.

"Son?" McDavies asked.

"I'm all right," Horatio said, pulling himself together. "I'm ok."

"I'm really sorry to ask this, but we need you to come down to the station," McDavies said.

"Right," Horatio said. "I have to get my brother first. God, I have to tell my brother," he said, realizing.

"We can do that for you, if you like," Hart said.

Horatio shook his head. "No. He's my responsibility. I'll do it." He took a deep breath and went back into the house. He glanced up the stairs and found Ray sitting at the top of them. "Ray, I need you to put your shoes on and find your jacket and come here," he said, in as steady of a voice as he could manage.

"Why? Where are we going?" Ray asked, not moving.

"Ray…please don't argue. Just…just do like I ask, ok? I'll explain in a minute, but I need you to just get your things and come on," he sighed.

Ray disappeared for a moment, then came downstairs wearing his shoes and his jacket. "Is it Mom? Is she ok?"

"Sit down here a second with me," Horatio said, nodding towards the bottom step. He sat down next to Ray and took a deep breath. "Ray, there are two police officers outside. They want to take us to the police station. They think that something happened to Mom."

"Something bad?" Ray asked. "Did she do something bad?"

"No, Ray. I don't think Mom did anything wrong. But…" he sighed. "Ray, I don't know how to tell you this. I really don't. I…Ray, the police officers think Mama's dead," he said, finally.

Ray's eyes went wide with terrified shock. He hardly seemed to breathe. Horatio reached out and touched his arm. "I want Mama," Ray said finally. "I want her!"

"I know," Horatio said, quietly. "I do too." He reached out and gathered his terrified little brother close and rocked him as he cried.

vvvvv

"Wow," Calleigh breathed.

"Yeah," Horatio said, examining his feet.

"Did you…have to identify her?" she asked.

He nodded. "There wasn't really anyone else. Ray, obviously, was too young. Mom's only family was a sister who lived in New Jersey. We didn't know where our father was. Never did find out, actually. I guess he's probably dead by now, but I've never checked."

"That…I can't imagine, Horatio," she said, shaking her head. "I just can't imagine. What did you do?"

He shrugged. "What I had to."

vvvvv

He sat on a bench with Ray's head in his lap. Ray hadn't said a word since they left the house. He wasn't even entirely sure his little brother was entirely conscious anymore.

"Horatio," Detective McDavies said, coming up to them with a woman. "I need you to do something for me. Sandy here can stay with your brother."

"Ok," he said, softly. "Ray, come on, buddy, sit up," he said.

"No. Don't go," Ray said, grabbing onto his arm.

"Ray, I'm not going far. Just with the detective. You stay here," he said.

"No!" Ray said, half frantic.

"Hey, Ray," Sandy said, crouching down in front of the bench. "Would you like some soda? We can go get one, if you like," she said, holding out her hand. "Your brother won't be long, he's just going downstairs for a moment. They'll be right back, really."

Ray shook his head and clutched Horatio's arm harder. "No."

"Raymond," Horatio said, slightly sharper than he meant to. "I need to take care of this. You go get a soda. I will be right back." He pulled away and stood up, ignoring Ray's crying. Sandy sat down in his place as he followed the detective down the hallway.

"Do you have any other family in Miami?" the detective asked as they waited for the elevator.

"No. My aunt lives in New Jersey. She's all the family we have," Horatio replied, quietly.

The detective sighed. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't do this, but I need someone to identify the body."

"Right," Horatio nodded. "I understand."

He followed the detective silently to the morgue. The detective stopped outside of a closed door. "She's in here, son. I just want to warn you…"

"Detective, let's…just get on with it," Horatio interrupted.

"All right," McDavies said, opening the door. He stood aside to let Horatio past him.

Horatio approached the table where his mother's body laid. He looked down, and swallowed hard, closing his eyes. "That's her," he said, shortly, before spinning on his heel and rushing out of the room. He fled down the corridor to the doors at the end, which mercifully led him out into the dark night. There was a trash barrel just outside the door and he suddenly found himself bent over it, throwing up what was left of his dinner and crying.

"Easy there, kid. It's ok," McDavies said quietly. "Easy now," he said.

"I'm sorry," Horatio said, straightening.

"Nothing to be sorry about. It's not an easy thing. You did good," McDavies said. "Here, sit." He steered Horatio towards a bench and sat him down. "Take a deep breath. I'll be right back." The detective disappeared back inside the building as Horatio leaned against the wall, trying to regain control. He couldn't let Ray see him like this.

McDavies came back after a moment with a cup of water and a handkerchief. "Here," he said. Horatio nodded his thanks and sipped the water slowly. The detective looked at him speculatively. "How old are you, son?"

"Seventeen," Horatio said.

"No, you're not," McDavies said, seriously.

Horatio blinked, confused. "Yes, I am. My birthday's not for more than a month, yet. March 19th."

"No, you're not seventeen," McDavies said. "Because if you're seventeen, I have to call social services, you see?"

Horatio nodded slowly. "Yes."

"I figured you would. Your brother's what? Ten?" McDavies said.

"Yeah. No, wait, eleven. He's eleven this past October," Horatio said, shaking his head.

"You're a senior?" McDavies asked. Horatio nodded. "All right." The detective was silent a moment. "You feel better?"

"A little, yeah," Horatio replied.

"Ready to go back to your brother?"

"Yeah." Horatio pushed off the bench and followed the detective back inside the building.

A few days later, Horatio was washing glasses in the kitchen sink. "Horatio, honey, the catering company will do that," his aunt said, finding him in the kitchen. "You don't have to do that."

"Don't care," he mumbled. His aunt had come and taken care of all the arrangements. He hadn't had to do anything other than show up where he was told. It was about all he'd been capable of doing anyway, by that point.

His aunt looked ready to say something else, but a knock on the door interrupted her. "I'll get it," she said. He shrugged and turned back to the glasses.

Detective McDavies entered the kitchen with his aunt a moment later. "Horato," his aunt said. "The detective would like to talk to you a moment."

He glanced up and rinsed his hands off. "Ok," he said. He led the detective out to the back stoop and sat down on the stairs. McDavies sat down next to him.

"How're you holding up?" McDavies asked.

Horatio shrugged. "Ok, I guess."

"What are your plans?" McDavies asked. "Have you thought about it?"

He shook his head. "Not really, I guess."

"Listen, can I give you a piece of advice?" McDavies asked. Horatio shrugged. "Go to New Jersey with your aunt. I know she's offered to let you go back with her and finish school. Do it. There's not going to be any way you're going be able to manage on your own taking care of your brother and finish school. And you should finish school. I talked to your teachers, they all say you're very bright. Don't waste the opportunity, you know?"

"Ray doesn't want to go to New Jersey," Horatio said.

"Ray is eleven. He's not old enough to know what he wants. He'll be fine. Look, Horatio, you're not going to be able to give him any kind of life if you stay here. If you go to New Jersey and graduate high school, you can get a job that will be enough to support you both. If you drop out now, it'll be very difficult to do that,' McDavies pointed out. "Just think about it, is all I'm saying."

"Do you…is there anything new?" Horatio asked after a moment.

"I don't have any news for you, no. But I'll keep you informed, even if you go," McDavies promised. Horatio nodded. "Think about it. Give us a call if there's anything we can do for you, ok?" The detective stood up. "Take care of yourself, son."

Horatio stood up and shook McDavies's hand. "Thank you," he said. He turned back to stare out over the backyard as the detective let himself out the back gate.

vvvvv

"Did you go to New Jersey?" Calleigh asked.

He nodded. "We did. We sold the house and moved with my aunt. I finished school and took the exam for the New York Police Academy and passed. It was that or the army, and I didn't want to leave Ray behind. The police academy seemed like as good of an idea as any," he shrugged. "So I moved to New York and became a cop. Ray stayed in New Jersey for a couple of years until he got to high school. He got a little…wild, at that point. Just rebellious. I couldn't really blame him. My aunt didn't have kids, and she wasn't quite sure what to do with him anymore. I'd been on the force a couple of years by that point and was making just about enough money that I could bring him up to live with me. So we did that for a year. But then, that summer, things just got worse. Ray just hated everything and just could not stay out of trouble. Finally I got fed up. I remember one screaming match between the two of us where I just said, 'fine, Ray, what is it that you _want_? Tell me what you want, and I'll do it!', and he said he just wanted to go home, to go back to Miami. So I called Detective McDavies and he helped me transfer to the MDPD so we could move back to Miami. Ray calmed down a good bit after that. He finished high school and took a year at the community college, but decided school wasn't for him and joined the force."

"Wanted to be like his brother," Calleigh suggested.

"Yeah, he did. It worked out, though, really, because I was getting tired of being a beat cop and since I didn't have to help Ray with school anymore, I could go get _my_ degree, then."

"I'd wondered where that came in. Because I know you've got a degree," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Did they ever find your mother's killer?" she asked.

He nodded. "About a year later. She was killed because she interfered with a drug deal in a parking lot not far from the library. They beat her and threw her body down by the canal. The perpetrator got life in prison. He died about ten years ago. That was about when I started getting kind of burned out. I…didn't know quite what to do when he died, it was strange. I was about to leave the force altogether, but Al convinced me to take a transfer to the bomb squad instead."

"Well, I'm glad he did," Calleigh said, squeezing his arm.

"I am, too," he said, quietly. They sat for a moment, looking out over the parking lot.

"We ought to get some sleep," Calleigh said. "You feel better now?"

"I do, actually," he said. "It…I don't know, it's been bothering me, but I didn't even realize what it was."

"I know," Calleigh said. "I'd noticed."

"Speed just…he had that same terrified look on his face at the warehouse as Ray did when I told him about Mom. And it just hit me somehow, but I couldn't place it. I hadn't thought about my mother's death in years, really, it's been so long," he said.

"Sometimes, things just hit you like that," Calleigh said.

"It was like a time bomb in the back of my head," he sighed.

"Well, did we diffuse it?" she asked.

He smiled a little. "I think so."

"Good," she said, patting his arm. "Come on, it's really late now," she said, standing up.

He took her offered hand to climb to his feet. "Thank you," he said, sincerely.

"You're welcome, honey. Any time," she smiled. "Now get some sleep. Tim's going to be up before both of us, at this rate."

"I will," he said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder as he went back towards the room where Tim still lay sleeping. He looked down on his friend for a moment, making sure he was sleeping peacefully, then crawled into his own bed and was asleep within moments.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Now that I can't exchange actions for words  
Now that I found these inside fears the worst  
Now that I know there's no place left to hide  
Can I become all I thought I might

"Panic Attack", Finger Eleven

* * *

"Madagascar"

"Um, Reno."

"We used Reno already."

"No, I didn't."

"H did. Off of Vancouver."

"Oh. Well, shoot. All right, go ahead, then."

"Reykjavik"

"You've been just waiting for that one, haven't you?" Calleigh sighed.

He smiled. "Yup."

There was a pause from the back seat, then, "Kyrgystan"

"Where the hell is that?" Calleigh asked.

"Central Asia," Horatio replied.

"Huh." She thought a moment, then laughed. "Ok, Mr. Smartypants, Nairobi".

"Islamabad," Tim replied without missing a beat. She sighed.

Horatio laughed in the back seat. "Dorchester."

"Again with the Rs? What did I ever do to you?" Calleigh sighed. "Oh, no, wait, Rochester."

"Reading," Tim replied. He shivered as he glanced out the window. It was awfully grey out there, and it had been getting colder in the car for the past hour or so. He was about to turn in his seat to see if Horatio had found something that started with "G" when they started to skid.

"Ohmygod, I can't…it's slipping," Calleigh cried in a panic.

"Take your foot off the gas," Tim snapped. "Turn the wheel to the right."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Just do it!" he said, sharply. They straightened suddenly as the unmistakable sound of freezing rain started to hit the car.

"It's really slippery," Calleigh said, still panicking. "What…this isn't hail?"

"It's freezing rain," Tim replied, squinting up ahead. "There, pull off into the rest area," he pointed. "Be careful, it's going to be slick. Just go slow."

She managed to pull into the rest area and into a parking space without incident. Tim shivered again as she sat back and started to cry. "I didn't know what to do, the car was going one way and I didn't have control, and, and, and…"

"It's ok, Calleigh, it was a skid, it happens," Horatio said soothingly from the back seat. Tim sat frozen next to her as she cried. His mind spun as he realized that he was facing winter weather for the first time in…twelve years, probably. I hate winter, he thought. _Oh, God, what the hell was I thinking? It's November, idiot!_

"I've never been farther north than Memphis and that was summer, I don't know what this _is_," Calleigh said, still half hysterical.

"It's freezing rain," Tim heard himself say in an impossibly calm voice. "It's what happens when precipitation starts off as snow, melts on the way down and then refreezes right before it hits the ground. It's…not fun."

"Take a deep breath, Calleigh. It's ok, we're all fine," Horatio said. Calleigh took a couple of deep breaths and a sip from her bottle of soda and pulled herself together.

Tim looked at her and realized suddenly that he was in the car with two people who'd grown up in the South. The Way Deep South. And who had probably never seen snow before in their lives, or if they had, they'd only seen maybe an inch or two. There was no way in hell Calleigh could drive in this, and he didn't think Horatio would be much better off. At any rate, neither of them had the lifelong winter reflexes he had. He remembered his very first winter driving lesson at the age of five: _You've got to have your wits about you in this weather, kiddo,_ his grandfather had said. He took a shaky breath and twisted to look at Horatio in the backseat.

Horatio must have about come to the same conclusion about Calleigh, because he said, "I lived in New York for awhile, once." Tim looked at him dubiously with raised eyebrows. "Ok, yeah, over twenty years ago," he admitted.

Tim shook his head. "No, all right, I'll do it." He might not have seen a winter in twelve years, but that was better than twenty. Besides, he'd grown up with this sort of shit. There were things you don't forget how to do. He was willing to bet that driving in icy conditions was one of them.

"Do what?" Calleigh asked, calmer now.

"Give me the keys," he said.

"What? No, Tim, I can do this, I was just surprised," she said.

"You can't drive in this, Calleigh. It's a specific set of skills you don't have. It's ok, you've never needed them," he explained. "I grew up in upstate New York. I had the skills before I even learned to drive, almost."

"You're not supposed to be driving," she argued.

He shook his head. "They took me off the surgery restrictions already. It's just because the Ativan can make me lightheaded. It's been more than four hours since I had any, I'm fine."

"Tim…" she said.

"Cal, you can't do this. Neither can H. Now, we can either sit here at this rest area until this goes away, which will probably not be anytime soon from the looks of it, or I can drive and we can get on with it. I know which I'd rather do," he said. "We can't have that much farther to go, can we?" He hadn't been paying all that much attention, but he was fairly sure they'd stopped at the halfway point last night and he knew they'd been on the road for most of the day today.

"About an hour, maybe an hour and a half, according to the GPS," Horatio said.

"All right, then. That's not bad, Calleigh. You know I can drive for longer than that in my sleep."

"Yes, I know," she sighed. "All right," she said, finally, handing him the keys. "But if you start to get tired…"

"If I get tired, we'll stop. Promise," he said, taking the keys.

He and Calleigh switched places, shivering in the cold. He adjusted the seat and glanced back at Horatio. "Anti-lock brakes?"

"Yes, they're anti-lock."

"Ok. Good," he said. That was a very good thing to know before you started out. He took a deep breath and backed the car out of the space and got them back on the highway. It was icy, but not quite as bad as he'd feared. He relaxed slightly as they got going and he spotted the flashers of a salt truck up ahead.

"You know, I don't have any warm clothes," Calleigh remarked about fifteen minutes later.

"I don't, either," Horatio said. "Hopefully we can find somewhere where we can buy coats at least."

"I have one," Tim said, absently. "There's probably a couple of sweaters, too, maybe."

"How did you know to bring cold weather stuff?" Calleigh asked.

"Didn't," he replied, frowning at the road. "I store the winter clothes in the duffle bag. I was kinda in a hurry and just threw my stuff in on top of it when I was packing. I didn't want you to leave without me and I couldn't find my other bag."

"Well, that's lucky," Horatio said.

"I'll say," Calleigh said, reaching over and turning the heat up. "This is cold."

Tim refrained from pointing out that winter tended to be cold. "This next exit looks like it has a shopping center," he said. "There's a lot of restaurants, anyway."

"Well, let's stop and see," Calleigh said. He nodded and merged over for the exit.

They all looked around as they pulled to the stop light at the end of the exit ramp. "Looks like a Walmart over there," Horatio said, pointing to the left.

"I imagine they'd have coats, right?" Calleigh said.

"Usually," Tim shrugged. "Good enough ones for these purposes, anyway."

"Sounds good, then," Calleigh said.

Tim parked the car in the parking lot and they all got out of the car. He walked around to the hatch and opened it and pulled out his duffle bag. Setting his pajamas and dopp kit inside the hatch, he dug out his parka and shook it out. Underneath were two sweaters and a flannel shirt. "Thought so," he mumbled, handing Calleigh and Horatio each a sweater. It was a good thing that he was still roughly the same size as he'd been ten years ago. And that he liked his clothes a little bit big, since Horatio had broader shoulders than he did. The sweater was considerably too long for Calleigh, though. He pulled the flannel shirt on over his long-sleeve t-shirt and said, "Why don't you two go get yourselves coats and I'll stay here?" His nerves felt tight and frayed, and he really didn't feel up to dealing with a store right then.

"You sure?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah," he said, putting his things back in the duffle and shrugging into the parka. It still zipped; was in fact more than slightly too large. "I should eat, anyway," he added, picking up one of the protein shakes that had somehow spilled out of the box.

"Ok. Do you need anything?" she asked him.

He felt the pockets of the parka and found a pair of gloves, but no hat. "A hat. And a thermal shirt, maybe," he replied.

"Got it," she said. "I have my phone if you think of anything else."

He nodded and closed the hatch as they walked off towards the store. He climbed back into the driver's seat and made a face at the protein shake. They really did taste lousy, but he'd decided the strawberry ones were the least objectionable. Better than the chocolate ones, anyway. He sighed as he opened it and took a sip. _Better this stuff than a feeding tube_, he reminded himself. The doctor had said if he showed up at his next appointment more than two pounds lighter, he'd stick him back in the hospital for a feeding tube. Tim was doing his best to prevent that, but it was hard to eat when you had no appetite.

He finished the shake as quickly as he could without completely upsetting his stomach and leaned his head back and shut his eyes. Winter. He _hated_ winter. It was cold and icy and wet and left a piece of endless cold that refused to thaw behind his stomach. There was a reason why he lived in Miami. What the hell was he thinking? Miami's relentless sun and heat must have warped his brain after so long. _Well, of course it was winter the first time you left _Miami_ in five years, Tim. You just have that kind of luck_, you know.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before the car door opened and someone put something in the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat. "Glasgow," Calleigh said.

He opened his eyes and turned his head towards her. "Warsaw."

"Mmm. Waco."

"Odessa"

"Albuquerque"

"Edmonton."

"Natchez. Hah!" she laughed.

He smiled a little. "Zaire."

"When you were little, did you just read the atlas for fun or something?" she asked.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Why am I not surprised?" she sighed. "All right, Eaton."

"Natchitoches" He smirked at her.

She sighed. "Sacramento," she said after a moment.

"Oneida."

"That's silverware, Tim," she said.

"It's also a city in upstate New York," he replied.

"Really?" He nodded. "Do they make the silverware there?" she asked. He nodded again. "Huh. Ok. Annapolis."

"Salem"

"Montreal."

"Lima"

Her eyes narrowed a moment, then she said, "Aberdeen."

Nothing immediately came to his mind that he hadn't already used earlier. He was tired of the game, anyway, so he shook his head a little.

"You give up?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Did I actually stump you, or are you just tired of playing?" she asked.

"Both," he said, smiling tiredly.

"Heh. All right, then," she said.

"Where's H?" he asked.

"Restroom. Like my coat?" she asked, holding an arm out.

"Looks warm," he said, nodding in approval.

"It seems to be. I got a hat and gloves and a scarf, too. I've never owned a scarf before," she said. "I got you a hat, too, but Horatio said you probably didn't need a scarf."

He shook his head. "It's not that cold. It's probably not quite 40."

"37 according to the television in Walmart," she said, nodding.

"Yeah, that's not that cold, really," he said.

"Does it get colder in Syracuse? It must, right? Because there's snow?" she asked.

He laughed a little. "Yeah, it gets colder. Like negative numbers, sometimes," he said.

She shivered. "I think I'll stay in Miami."

"Me too," he said, nodding.

"Are you tired?" she asked.

"A bit."

"Do you want Horatio to drive? The girl in the store said that we're probably only about another half hour away and that the roads ahead are probably pretty good, because they've been salting all day," Calleigh asked.

He shrugged. "I'm ok."

"You sure? Because Horatio says he can do it." Calleigh said.

He was about to answer when Horatio arrived at the car. "Here," he said, handing Calleigh a candy bar. "You want some pudding, Speed?" he asked, holding out a chocolate pudding cup.

"Where'd you find the pudding?" Calleigh asked, unwrapping the candy bar.

"There were groceries on the other side. I saw them when I was coming back from the restroom," Horatio replied.

Tim took the offered pudding and spoon. "Thanks."

"No problem. We've got more, too, if you're hungry later," Horatio said. "You want me to drive so you can eat?"

He sighed. "Yeah, all right," he said, getting out of the driver's seat to climb in the back. Horatio got in the car and started it. He managed to eat the pudding by the time they were back on the highway. Then he leaned back in the seat, shoved his hands in the pockets of his parka and let them shake as he closed his eyes and let the panic wash over him, silently.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

Lights go down  
It's dark  
The jungle is your head  
Can't rule your heart  
I'm feeling so much stronger  
Than I thought  
Your eyes are wide  
And though your soul  
it can't be bought  
your mind can wander

"Vertigo", U2

* * *

Ronnie Jackson had met them at the police station when they arrived. "I sort of guessed you'd be here sometime today," he said.

"It's the best lead I've had," Horatio said, simply.

"I guessed," Ronnie replied. "Well, let me tell you what we've been doing," he said, leading the three of them into a large open bullpen. "We've been keeping our eyes open for this guy again. Seen him in two places, the post office and a self-store place outside of town. We got a better photograph, if you want to see it."

Horatio nodded. He glanced at Speed and Calleigh. Calleigh looked interested. Speed looked a bit pale. Ronnie handed him the photograph. It was much clearer and Horatio could see more similarities to Andrew Markham. He looked at Speed. "You want to see?" he asked. He was not going to push Speed if he didn't want to deal with this, but on the other hand, why else would he have wanted to come?

Speed held his hand out for the photograph. Calleigh watched him closely as he studied it. His face twitched into a not quite readable expression. "Maybe," he said, finally, handing it back to Horatio.

"Yeah?" Ronnie asked. Speed shrugged. "Well, that's probably enough to pick him up with."

"Do you have any idea where he might be staying?" Horatio asked.

"Not yet. We're working on it," Ronnie replied. Someone called for him across the room. "Hang on, I'll be right back."

Horatio nodded. Speed drifted away to a chair near the corner. Calleigh frowned after him, but let him go.

Ronnie returned a moment later and said, "The boss wants to get a warrant, so I'm going to go talk to the judge. We'll probably be back in an hour or so."

"All right," Horatio said.

"Make yourselves at home," Ronnie nodded as he left. Horatio nodded after him and wandered over to a map on the wall.

He studied it for a few moments until Calleigh came up and said quietly in Spanish "I'm going to go find us a hotel for the night. I asked Tim if he wanted to come and he wanted to stay here. Keep half an eye on him, all right? I made him take his medication, but he's a little strung out."

"Right," Horatio replied in kind, understanding that she had wanted a way of telling him something privately. He glanced over at Speed, who was sitting in a chair by the window and staring outside. "I'll call you before we do anything."

"Please," Calleigh said, nodding. She walked over and said something quietly to Speed before slipping out the door.

Horatio kept an eye on Speed, but he never moved. He decided to call and check in with Kara.

"No, we're all fine," she said, when he asked how they were doing. "How's things out there? Are you there yet?"

"We got here about an hour ago. We're waiting to see if they can get a warrant to pick our suspect up," he replied.

"Oh, good. So you think it's really the guy?"

"It seems possible, anyway. I'm not entirely certain yet," he said. "But I'm hoping we'll know more if we can get a warrant."

"Well, good. I'll keep you posted if anything interesting happens down here, but so far, we're just fine. We may even finish up the Blackman case before you get home, if the DNA results pan out the way they seem like they should," she said.

"Good. Let me know, ok?" he asked.

"Of course. Y'all be careful out there," she said.

"We will. Thanks, Kara," he said.

"Anytime," she said, before hanging up.

Ronnie came back into the station just then with the warrant. "We're in business. I've already radioed out to have everyone on the lookout, and I'm going to head out now. You going to come with?" he asked.

Horatio glanced at Speed. "I'll wait, if that's all right with you."

"No problem," Ronnie said. "If you want coffee or something, there's some in the break room down the hall. I'll call as soon as something happens."

"Thanks," Horatio nodded. He walked over to Speed, who looked up at him. "I'm going to get some coffee, do you want any?" Speed shook his head. "Do you want something else?" Horatio asked, remembering suddenly that Speed didn't drink coffee. Speed shook his head again. "All right." He walked down the hall and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"You're the lieutenant from Miami?" someone asked him. He turned and saw an older man standing in the doorway.

"Yes," Horatio nodded. "Horatio Caine." He walked over and offered his hand.

The man shook it. "Sam Mitchell. Glad we could help you folks out."

"I am too," Horatio said.

"Hopefully it won't take long to pick this guy up. Not that big of a town, really," Mitchell said.

"It seems like a nice town, though," Horatio said.

Mitchell laughed. "Oh, it's that. Not our best weather for visitors, but we hold our own."

"It is a bit cold, after Miami," Horatio admitted.

"Well, you Miami folks be real careful out on the roads. They're salted, but it's still probably not what you're used to."

"We noticed," Horatio smiled. "I've got some winter driving experience, and Detective Speedle grew up in New York, so we're doing pretty well."

"Oh, yeah, New York is worse than this. Good, then. I was hoping that at least one of you had seen ice before," Mitchell said. "Never can tell with people south of here."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Horatio said. "Thank you for the warning."

"No problem," Mitchell said, picking up his own coffee cup. "I'd better get back to the paperwork. I hope this is the guy you're looking for."

"Me too," Horatio answered. He carried the coffee back into the bullpen. Speed was still sitting by the window. Calleigh wasn't back yet. He went back to looking at the map, glancing over every so often to make sure Speed was still all right. Or as all right as he might be.

Twenty minutes later, Ronnie and another man came into the bullpen. "We got him. He's down in the interview room."

Horatio nodded and looked at Speed who was staring at them. "Give us a minute, Ronnie."

"Sure. It's down the hall and to the left," Ronnie said before walking out of the room, presumably down to the interview room.

He walked over to Speed and crouched down in front of him. "Speed, I really need you to come down and take a look."

Speed nodded. "I know."

"Just a moment. That's it. He'll never know you were here, if I can possibly help it," Horatio said.

Speed took a shaky breath that caught in the back of his throat, but nodded.

"Ok," Horatio said, standing back up. "Come on, I'll go with you." He led them down the hallway. Ronnie was standing outside of the door. "Is there a mirror?"

"Yeah," Ronnie said, gesturing towards the window. "He can't see us. Or hear us, unless we yell. It's pretty soundproofed."

Speed approached the window slowly. Horatio stood back and let the younger man look. Speed seemed transfixed before the window for a long time before turning abruptly and nodding. "I think so, yes," he whispered.

Horatio nodded. "Thank you." Speed nodded back and drifted back down the hall. "Do you need me?" Horatio asked Ronnie, watching Speed walk away.

Ronnie looked up and shook his head. "No, I think we're fine. I'll come get you if we do."

"All right. Thanks," Horatio said, turning to follow Speed. He felt relieved, now that they had _someone_ in custody. Someone who might be the right person. But it was clear that his relief wasn't entirely shared.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

You in the sea  
On a decline  
Breaking the waves  
Watching the lights go down   
Letting the cables sleep

Whatever you say it's alright  
Whatever you do it's all good  
Whatever you say it's alright  
Silence is not the way  
We need to talk about it

"Letting the Cables Sleep", Bush

* * *

He walked through the bullpen to scoop up his parka and pulled it on as he walked out the back door of the station. There was a deck in the back of the parking lot that he'd seen from the window and he headed for it, shivering in the cold air as he zipped his parka and pulled on his gloves. His mind reeled so much he barely noticed that he was outside.

Thoughts chased each other around his brain, despite the fact they shouldn't be able to do that. Not after the Ativan Calleigh had made him take. Not with the antidepressants he was on. But they swirled and eddied like a snow flurry on an open road, ghosting across the black pavement. He shivered. _Eric's gone and I don't…is that…blue tattoo, he had a blue tattoo, Eric didn't know, it's ok, it's ok, Speed, you're safe, I got you, but no, it's winter and no one's got me and he's gone and it's ice and snow and I left, I left to get away from this, and you gotta run, run away, and and and…I just want it to end, please let it all end go away stop thinking stop breathing and shouldn't have happened, shouldn't let them get so close make it harder I can't think…speak…do…go away, away far, far away…_

_I should have never come back…_

A crunch under his feet told him that someone had salted the deck. He fetched up against the railing and looked out, unseeing and breathing hard. But then, something inside him broke, and he _looked_. The deck overlooked a small ravine with a tiny trickle of a creek. Every branch, every rock, everything was covered with a thin layer of ice and frost. The mist from the growing twilight softened all the edges. It was beautiful. _I forgot, oh…oh, I forgot how pretty…_ Images from a half-forgotten childhood chased each other behind his eyes; glistening snow on a quiet street, drifts taller than he was, laughing as his Uncle Bryan showed him how to make a snowball, teaching Matt how to make snowman and feeling important that he knew. Snow forts and ice on Niagara Falls. How was it that he forgot all these things but remembered so many more? Twisting ice underneath him, skidding to a stop, thrown from the seat and sharp pain and dull numbness from the cold. _No, don't, not…I can't. I can't. I can't tell real anymore, do you…nothing's real, everything's real, as real as anything is…what answer…none of it has an answer…how can you live with no answers…._

Another crunch behind him told him he wasn't alone. He froze, listening, not wanting to let go of the railing for fear that he'd fall off the earth. "Speed?" Horatio's voice. He still didn't turn. "Speed, are you all right?"

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. He felt Horatio come closer as every nerve in his body sang fire and ice. Horatio stopped just inside of his peripheral vision and sat down quietly on a bench. "I'm just going to sit right here, ok? You tell me what you want me to do."

Still grabbing the railing with one hand…_can't fall off…_he twisted to face Horatio. "I forgot…" he said, his voice cracking. "I forgot it was pretty."

Horatio glanced out at the ravine. "It is pretty, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I don't like winter."

"I guessed," Horatio said.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Horatio's face was confused.

"I…told you that was the guy, but I really…I wasn't really sure," he admitted. "I…I don't really know anything anymore. But everyone was rushing around, doing their jobs and looking at me and I didn't know what to do."

"Oh," Horatio's face softened. "Speed, it's ok. Honestly. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you identify him."

"My job…It's…" he trailed off. "I should have been able to," he finished, quietly.

Horatio didn't say anything to that. Tim turned back towards the ravine, still feeling Horatio's eyes on him. The mists were deepening and starting to obscure the view. Somehow, that was a bit comforting.

"Speed?" Horatio asked, after what felt like a long time.

"Yes?" he asked, still looking out at the mist.

"Do you…this may not be the time to ask this, but do you _want_ to go back to work?"

The question made his shoulders jerk. Somehow, Horatio had stumbled onto his second biggest secret. His breath caught in his chest and he closed his eyes. "I…I don't know," he admitted, finally. He opened his eyes again and looked down at his hands clenched on the railing.

"It's ok to not know," Horatio said. "It really is."

"I…" he shook his head. "Sometimes I miss it. Sometimes I never want to see the lab ever again. Sometimes I think I can't do it anymore, not now that everything is different."

"That's understandable," Horatio replied. "It is different, now. I won't lie to you about that."

"I'm scared," he whispered after another silence. "I'm really scared. I don't…I don't want to…I don't ever want to…I don't even know. I'm just…scared." He didn't have the words to explain.

Horatio seemed to think a moment. "What scares you the most?"

He frowned. It was so hard to sort out… "I think…I don't want to…it was really scary in the warehouse, all of it," he said in a rush. "Eric and Hagen and me shooting someone and…I don't ever want to do that again."

"Ah." Horatio said, in a tone of understanding. "You don't want to be in a position where something like that could happen again."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"That makes sense," Horatio said. "I've felt the same way before."

Tim shook his head. "You're stronger."

"I don't think that's true," Horatio replied. "I don't think that's true at all. I think I've been luckier, maybe, but I don't think I'm stronger."

"Maybe," Tim shrugged.

"You know," Horatio said after a moment. "Coming back to work doesn't necessarily mean going back into the field. You don't _have_ to go to crime scenes if you don't want to. You can just work in the lab, if you'd feel safer."

He blinked and looked up. That had never occurred to him. "But…"

"But what?" Horatio asked.

"It doesn't seem fair," he said. "The lab is less work."

"It's not less work, it's different work," Horatio said. "Do Carrie and Valera do less work than you do?"

"Well, sort of," he said. Not that they were any less dedicated.

"Yeah, that was a bad example," Horatio said. "I found out just how much work you do, by the way."

He looked up at that, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Horatio chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Never mind," he sighed. "My point is, lab work is not less work. And even if it were, no one would think you hadn't earned the right to take a break."

"Mmm," Tim said. He shivered. It was growing colder as it got darker. His hands hurt. He let go, experimentally. When he didn't go flying off into space, he relaxed. Talking had slowed his brain down a little. He turned towards Horatio and gestured shakily at the bench. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course," Horatio said, sliding over to make room.

"Thanks," he said, dropping down on the bench. He rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned over to rest his head on his hands.

"You feel a little better?" Horatio asked.

"Maybe," he said. "It's hard to tell."

"You look a little better," Horatio said.

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing up.

"When I walked out here, you were so rigid I was afraid you were having a heart attack or something," Horatio explained.

"Oh. No. Just a panic attack," he sighed.

"I see," Horatio said. "Do you need something for that?"

He shook his head. "Not right now, no. Calleigh has the pills anyway."

"I wonder where she is. She said she was going to find a hotel, but she's been gone quite a while," Horatio mused.

He thought a moment. "She said something about a nap, but I don't know if she meant she wanted one or she thought I wanted one."

Horatio shrugged. "I don't know. You feel up to going back inside? It's getting really cold out here and we probably ought to find Calleigh."

He nodded and followed Horatio back across the parking lot to the station.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

No one said it would be easy  
But no one said it'd be this hard  
No one said it would be easy  
No one thought we'd come this far 

"No One Said It Would Be Easy", Sheryl Crow

* * *

Calleigh sighed as she got back into the truck. The nearest hotel wound up being the next exit up the interstate, which was ten miles away. The roads were now merely wet, not icy, and wet pavement was well within her capabilities as a driver. But the guy working the front desk at the Best Western had told her that when the sun went down, the temperatures would drop and it would get icy again, so she really wanted to get back to the police station before that happened.

_I haven't called Alexx_, she realized suddenly. She glanced at the clock. She probably had a good half hour before it started to get dark, which should be enough time to call home.

"Alexx Woods."

"Hey, it's me," she said. "Sorry I didn't call earlier."

"No, sugar, it's fine. Are you guys all right?" Alexx asked.

"Mostly, yeah. We're here and when I left the station they were working on getting a warrant for the suspect's arrest. Tim saw the photograph and he said it might be the right guy, but I don't know," she sighed. "He's a little strung out, I'm not entirely sure he isn't just saying what he thinks we want to hear."

"Poor baby. All of you," Alexx said. "Timmy's not doing so well?"

Calleigh shrugged, even though she knew Alexx couldn't see. "Hard to tell. He was doing fairly well earlier today, despite having one of his night terror episodes last night, but then we hit the mountains and there was…oh, what did he call it? Freezing rain?" she said. "Yeah, that's it. Freezing rain."

"Tim's not a big fan of winter," Alexx said.

"Yeah, I know that now. We skidded- I was driving, it was scary. But, it was kind of interesting, too; as soon as I started to panic, Tim just started snapping instructions at me like he knew what he was talking about and got us over to a rest area, and then just insisted on driving. He's not been doing things like that, you know?" Calleigh said.

"He probably looked at you and looked at Horatio and realized that he was the Yankee stuck in the car with Southerners," Alexx said, sounding amused.

"I'm willing to bet that's exactly what he was thinking," Calleigh agreed. "But we had to stop and buy some warmer clothing, and after that, Tim was just kind of…out of it. Quiet like. I'm half thinking he was freaking a bit, after that, but he just kind of retreated like he does and I couldn't tell for sure. It wasn't a full blown panic attack, but it was something. He's with Horatio at the police station now. I tried to convince him to come with me to find a hotel for the night and take a nap, but he wouldn't. I didn't want to push it."

"No, probably better to let him have his head," Alexx said.

"I did make him take the Ativan. He doesn't need to be freaking out in the middle of a police station in mostly rural North Carolina," Calleigh said, dryly. "And I really don't want to deal with him doing that _and_ deal with Horatio's single-mindedness right now."

"Baby, I don't blame you one bit. How much longer are you going to be out there?" Alexx asked.

Calleigh sighed. "I have no idea. I'm really hoping that they get the warrant, pick this guy up, and figure it all out tonight so we can get on the road tomorrow. I don't know if I have that kind of luck, though." She just wanted to go home.

"Well, I'll keep praying for your luck, how's that sound?" Alexx said.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Everything ok there?" she asked.

"We're all just fine. Kara's doing fine, the newbies are fine," Alexx assured her.

"Good." At least she didn't have to worry about Miami, too. "All right, I had better get back before they send someone out to find me," she said.

"Ok, honey. You call us when you're heading south again, ok?" Alexx said. "Or if you need anything before then. Anytime, sugar."

"Thanks, Alexx," she said.

"I'll talk to you later. Tell Timmy and Horatio I said hi." Alexx said.

"Will do. Talk to you later," Calleigh said, before hanging up. She turned the car on and drove back towards town.

When she arrived back at the police station about twenty minutes later, she discovered that it was a hive of activity. "What's happening?" she asked Ronnie, who was sitting at a desk looking at something on his computer screen.

"Oh, hi, Calleigh," he said. "Well, we brought Markham in, and Speed identified him, and we're talking to him right now. I'm looking up extradition information."

"Wait, wait, it _is_ Markham?" she asked, surprised. She had honestly believed that nothing was going to come of this.

"It is. We ran his prints through AFIS and popped a match," Ronnie nodded.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "Where's Horatio and Tim? Do they know yet?"

Ronnie shook his head. "I haven't told them yet, this just happened not even five minutes ago, that we got a match. Speed didn't give us the name, unless he told Horatio afterwards."

"Tim ID'd him?" she asked, trying to follow the threads of the story.

"He came down and looked and said that he thought it was the guy who attacked him. And then he kind of walked out. Horatio went after him, I haven't seen either of them since," Ronnie said.

"Ok," Calleigh said. "So, you're talking to him now."

"Yeah, we're trying to see what we can get out of him. I'd turn Horatio loose on him, but I don't think that's such a hot idea."

"No, don't, please?" Calleigh said. "That's a really bad idea."

"I thought so. I was just as happy that he went after Speed instead of sticking around for the questioning. We've got the info from your files, so we've got plenty enough to go on. And we might be rural, but we're pretty good, too," Ronnie said.

"Wouldn't surprise me at all," Calleigh said. "So you have no idea where Tim and Horatio are?"

"Not a one," Ronnie said. "I think they may have taken a walk; Tim looked pretty shaken up." She nodded. "I'd better get back there."

"Go, I'll find them," she said.

She didn't have to look far; they came through the back door of the station just as she was about to go check the back parking lot. "There you are," she said.

"There _you_ are," Horatio said, his face rosy from the cold.

She looked at them both. Horatio looked fine. Tim looked like hell. _Great_, she thought. "Ronnie says they got print hits off of AFIS. The guy they picked up is Andrew Markham. I was coming to look for you to tell you."

Tim's eyes widened a bit, and his face paled even more. "Really?" he whispered, hoarsely.

"Really," Calleigh nodded.

Tim's mouth moved in a soundless "oh," and he turned to look back out the window. She and Horatio both looked at him and then traded concerned looks.

"I got a hotel room," she said, pulling Horatio a bit away from Tim.

"Good," Horatio said, still looking at Tim, who was standing frozen in shock.

"I'm going to take Tim back there now," she said, making an executive decision to get him out of there.

"I think that would be a good idea. He had a panic attack out there," Horatio said quietly.

"I could tell," she said. "Anyway, the hotel is at the next exit up. The Best Western," she said.

"Why don't you go and I'll stay here and see if Ronnie needs anything. I'll call you when I know something," Horatio said.

She nodded. "Ok." Horatio turned to go back down the hall and she reached out to touch Tim's shoulder. "Come on, bud. We're gonna get out of here."

He followed her obediently and let her put him in the car. "You all right?" she asked as they started heading for the interstate.

"I don't…maybe," he said. "I don't think…I wasn't sure he was the right guy, I still don't…I'm still not sure," he stuttered.

"Ah," Calleigh said. "They have prints, Tim. It's not all on your ID."

"I don't…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It's all…"

"I know," she said softly. "You had to do that, and then you went outside and things weren't good?" she asked.

He nodded. "It was…I forgot it was pretty," he said, distantly. But before Calleigh could reply, he broke down crying. She tried to reach out to touch his arm, but he shrunk back. There wasn't much use trying to do anything when he was like that. All she could do was wait it out.

He cried almost the entire way to the hotel, but was almost calm by the time they arrived. She pulled up into the parking space and looked at him. "Ok?" she asked.

"Ok," he said.

"All right. Let's get you inside," she said. She led him to the room, opened the door and let him in. He sat down on a bed as she went into the bathroom and got a wet washcloth and a glass of water. She dug in the pocket of her coat for the bottle of pills and shook one out to break in half. He was still sitting with his coat on. "Hey, come on, let's get your coat off, ok?"

He nodded as she set the things down on the nightstand and peeled him out of his coat and shoes. "Here," she said, handing him the washcloth. He swiped at his face as she pulled the bedspread off the bed and pulled back the covers. "Ok, take this," she said, giving him the half a pill and the water. He did so, and curled up in the bed. She stretched out next to him, and reached out to brush back his hair. "Better?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Good," she said. "Close your eyes." He was asleep within minutes.

She stayed with him on the bed, making sure he was calm, until her cell phone rang. She sat up and answered it. "Duquesne."

"It's me," Horatio said. "It's over."

"What?" she asked. "What happened?"

"He confessed…it's over." Horatio sounded dazed.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"The station."

"Ok, Tim's asleep, let me write him a note and I'll come get you," she said.

"Please?" Horatio asked.

"I'm on my way," she said, softly, hanging up the phone.

Horatio was waiting outside of the station when she pulled up. He seemed to have pulled himself together in the twenty minutes it had taken her to return to town. "Hi," he said, getting in the car.

"Hi," she replied.

"Do you want me to drive?" he asked.

"The roads are ok, I can do it," she said.

"All right." He sat back in the seat and looked pensive.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I'm not…I'm really not entirely sure," he admitted. "They went in there and confronted him with the AFIS information and the next thing I knew, they were bringing me a written confession. It was just that fast."

"Wow," Calleigh said.

"Yeah. I'm glad you left when you did. Tim didn't need to be there for that, I don't think. He didn't need to see the confession," Horatio said.

"No. He does not," Calleigh said firmly.

"He's sleeping?" he asked.

"Yeah. He'll probably sleep for a couple hours now, he missed his usual nap. Plus, he's tanked out on Ativan," she sighed. "How bad was this panic attack?"

Horatio shook his head. "I'm not sure. I thought he was going to have a heart attack, but he said it was just panic. He wasn't making a lot of sense at first."

"That's usual," Calleigh said. "I should have expected it. He hasn't left Miami in five years, did you know that?"

"I didn't," Horatio admitted. "By choice, I take it."

"If by choice, you mean compulsion, yeah," Calleigh said. She leaned her head back and closed her aching eyes. She was just so tired.

"Calleigh?" Horatio asked, sounding concerned.

She opened her mouth to reassure him that she was fine, but without warning, she dissolved into tears. "Oh, God…" she choked. "I'm so tired."

"Shh, shh, it's ok," Horatio said, reaching out to touch her arm.

"I'm sorry," she said, around the tears. "But…Eric's gone, and Tim's so sick, and you're more than half distracted and there's so much to do and I'm just here trying to hold the middle together and I'm just so _tired_ I don't even know what to do anymore."

"No, no, don't be sorry," Horatio said. He fished around in the glove compartment and came up with some tissues. "Here, it's ok."

She took the tissues and blew her nose. "Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome. And I'm sorry. I should have been more help," he said.

"No, it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. And Tim probably wouldn't have let you help anyway. He's stubborn about that," she sighed.

"Well, what can I do for you now?" Horatio asked. "Tell me what you need."

"Take us home?" she asked, wanly. "I don't know how people stand this for months. It's so cold. No wonder Tim moved to Miami," she shivered.

"I can do that. Do you want to go tonight?" Horatio asked.

She sighed, but shook her head. "I already paid for the hotel rooms."

"That's not a problem. If the department won't approve the charge because we didn't stay, _I'll_ pay for them," he said. "If you want to leave tonight, we will. It's that simple."

She smiled slightly, but shook her head again. "Thank you, but no, let's just stay here tonight. Tim's asleep, and I really don't like waking him up. Plus, we already drove nearly eight hours today. I'm exhausted, you're probably not much better off, and Tim's drugged out of his mind. It's better to just stay here tonight and get some rest."

"You're right," Horatio said. "Do you feel a little better?"

"I do, actually," she admitted.

"Would dinner make you feel even better?" Horatio asked.

"Definitely," she said, realizing suddenly that she was starving.

"All right, then. If Tim's asleep and not likely to wake up anytime soon, why don't we get ourselves some dinner, pick something up for him to eat later, and then go get some sleep," Horatio said.

"That sounds wonderful," she said, just glad that someone other than her was taking charge of the situation.

"Then that's what we'll do. Here, let me drive," Horatio said, opening the car door.

She let him switch places with her and let him drive up the road towards the interstate. It was over, she thought. But at the same time it wasn't. It wouldn't be over until Tim recovered, and she was honestly beginning to despair of that ever happening. _Enough_, she thought. Food. Bed. That was all she could handle tonight. She would think about the rest of it later.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Over and in, last call for sin  
While everyone's lost, the battle is won  
With all these things that I've done  
All these things that I've done

(Time, Truth and Hearts)

If you can, hold on  
If you can, hold on

"All These Things That I've Done", The Killers

* * *

They'd been driving since very early that morning. Calleigh had woken him up before it was even light out and they'd left just as the sun was beginning to peek up through the clouds. Horatio had told him late last night what had happened, sounding very glad everything was over. Calleigh seemed less certain about that, but seemed less strained. It was just him who wasn't relieved.

He had the now familiar off balance feeling that happened when he'd come through a panic attack to the other side. He hated it. Hated all of it. And it wasn't getting any better.

/It won't, you know/

The voice. The calm one. It was back. _What do you mean?_

/You don't listen, do you? This is going to kill you, you know./

_I don't understand…_no, wait…oh. He did understand. Eric. Eric had come and told him…_Oh. _

/Yes/

_I don't know if I can._

/You can. You have to. Let go of all of it, Tim. It's poison. Only one way to deal with it. Get it out./

_I can't_

/You can. You must. It's time, Tim. Just go on ahead/

He shook his head. His head ached. "The thing is…I…you see…" The words bubbled up and spilled out of his mouth before he was even aware he was talking.

"What?" Calleigh asked, startled by his sudden outburst.

"I…can't." he said, shaking his head. His brain was screaming, it was all swirling together and he couldn't find the words.

"Yeah, you can," Horatio said, from the back seat as he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid forward between the seats to look at Speed. "I know you can".

He shook his head, but took a deep shuddering breath. "It's my fault, I killed him," he said in a shaking voice.

"You mean the guy at the scene?" Calleigh asked. "Tim, you were…"

"No!" he shouted.

"Well, Eric, then? You didn't kill Eric, honey," she said, confused.

"Not Eric," Horatio said, calmly, putting his hand on Tim's shoulder.

He shook his head. "My friend. I killed him" His voice broke and he was nearly sobbing as he tried to pull away from Horatio's grasp.

"Tell us," Horatio said. "Tell us what happened. It's the only way."

And so, crying, Tim choked out the story he had kept hidden away for twelve long years.

vvvvv

_January 16, 1991_

"You want a go, Tim?" Jason asked as they stood watching their classmates take turns on the snowmobiles.

"I dunno," he shrugged.

"Oh, come on. You take a turn driving. You'll be fine", Jason coaxed.

He bit his lip as he watched a pair of girls take their turn. It wasn't that he was scared of the snowmobile, exactly- he'd ridden on the back of one when it had been Jason's turn to drive. But Jason was nearly two years older than him. Everyone was. Tim had skipped a grade and had a summer birthday, which made him the very youngest in the class. He'd just gotten his driver's license a few months ago. Everyone else had been driving for nearly two years already. He wasn't sure he could control the snowmobile well enough.

Jason laughed when he said as much. "It's not like a car, really. And you drive just fine, anyway. Come on, have a go. I'll be there the whole time. It'll be fun!"

Jason was always pushing him to try stuff. And usually he was right. Tim was fine and he did have a good time. "Oh, all right," he sighed. "But I'm stopping if I don't like it." The usual caveat against feeling out of his depth. He hated that feeling.

"Of course, no problem," Jason replied.

When they got on the snowmobile, Tim hesitated. "I don't know about this," he said.

"You can do this, Tim. Come on already," Jason said.

He sighed again and turned the key. They started out a bit jerky as he got used to the controls, but the ride smoothed out fairly quickly.

"See, I told you!" Jason yelled from behind him.

Tim relaxed a little and was almost starting to enjoy himself when the snowmobile lurched under them as they hit a bump. He swore and pulled at the controls in an effort to keep control, but they skidded on a patch of ice and hit a larger bump. Tim screamed as he lost control and the next thing he knew, everything was dark.

"Hey Little Man, open your eyes for me," The familiar voice trickled down through the darkness and Tim dragged his eyes open with a gasp. "Easy there, kiddo, easy. It's ok. I'm here, Little Man."

"Daddy," he croaked through his dry and sore throat.

"Yup. I'm here. It's ok, you're going to be fine," his dad said as he brushed back Tim's hair.

"What happened?" Tim whispered.

"Well, you lost control of the snowmobile and it flipped over. You got caught underneath it and the impact broke your kneecap. They've done surgery to repair it, and you're going to be some time recovering, but you're going to be fine in the end," his dad explained.

"Mom?" he asked.

"Your Mom is at the hotel with Matt. He was too little to come up, so she took him to the hotel and we'll trade places later on, ok? But she's here, don't worry."

He nodded slightly, but frowned. "Jason!" he exclaimed.

His dad took a deep breath. "Well, kiddo. Here's the thing. Jason hit his head very badly and hurt his neck. The doctors aren't sure yet what's going to happen with him. He's in the ICU, in critical condition. Now, listen. There's hope yet, ok? Nothing's final yet. And the doctors feel pretty sure that he's not going to die, at least they did earlier today. So there's still a possibility that he's going to be fine. We just don't know yet," he said, gently.

"My fault," Tim croaked.

"It's not. It's really not. No one thinks it's your fault, Timmy. Lisa and George are here and they said specially to tell you it's not your fault. You couldn't have known there was a patch of ice there- there was no way to tell. It was an accident," his dad reassured him.

Tim shook his head, mute. His dad sighed and smoothed his hair back again. "Right now, Little Man, you need to rest and concentrate on getting better. Ok? We'll deal with the rest when it comes. But you need to rest now."

Tim tried to protest, but his eyes were too heavy. "Daddy?" he asked, barely awake.

"Yes?"

"Where's Marianne?" He wanted his mom, but he wanted Marianne too.

His dad paused and frowned. "She's in France, kiddo. You know that. I called her and she said she'd call you later tonight, ok?"

He frowned, but sleep claimed him before he could protest again.

vvvvv

"That's what happened to your knee?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah," he said, softly. "The kneecap shattered. I don't know what it hit. They put a plate and some screws in there to hold my knee together. The problem was, though, that I wasn't quite done growing- I was only 16. So they had to do some revisions as I got taller. But then, well, I sort of dropped out on everyone, and I grew three inches and missed when they would have done the third revision, so it didn't happen on schedule, and they couldn't fix it entirely," he admitted.

"Which is why you limp," Calleigh said, nodding.

He nodded. "They'll probably have to replace it altogether at some point, but not until I'm…done being a CSI. I wouldn't be able to pass the physical with a knee replacement. I can now."

"What happened to Jason?" Calleigh asked.

"He…he was paralyzed from the shoulders down," Tim replied, quietly. "It was…not good." Understatement. Some days he didn't seem to be able to say anything other than understatements. It was too hard to describe things accurately. Too hard to find the exact words that would tell the real truth of a situation. Horrible didn't quite cover it, so well, bad would have to do.

"What do you mean you dropped out on everyone?" Horatio asked, finally, when it became clear that Tim wasn't going to say anything further without prompting.

"Uh, yeah. That." He looked at his hands, all twisted around in his lap. "That's…well, it's the long part."

"We've got time," Horatio said.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "Um, well, ok," he said, relenting.

vvvvv

_September 14, 1992_

"Yo, Speedle."

"What?" Tim asked distractedly, not glancing up at the exasperated tone of his roommate's voice. It was clear that Gary had been trying to get his attention for awhile.

"You've got a phone call."

"I'll call back," he mumbled, assuming it was his parents.

"No, they said it's important. Something about an opportunity for adventure and…chaos theory?" Gary replied.

Tim's head jerked up. "Yeah, ok," he said, pushing away from his lab report. That could only be Jason. "Hello?" he said, taking the phone.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked without preamble.

"Writing a lab report, why?" he said.

"Guess where I am?"

"Um…home?" He really hoped the answer was home. Jason had been in the hospital twice this year already, once with pneumonia and once with a kidney infection.

"Nope. I'm at Mt. Sinai," Jason said, happily.

"Wait, what? What's wrong, what happened? You're in New York?" he asked, panicked.

"Calm down, it's fine, it's good, Tim. Really. Yes, I'm in New York. No, nothing is particularly wrong. There's a specialist here that Doc Anderson brought up last month, remember?" Jason asked.

"Um, yeah, I think so. A neurosurgeon?" he replied, racking his brain to remember.

"Right. Well, the guy reviewed the case and he thinks I'm a good candidate for this surgery he does. So we're in New York! Listen, Mom is on her way over to get you, they said you can stay the weekend here with me. So throw some stuff in a bag and meet her out by the gates. She'll probably be there in like five minutes," Jason said.

"Right, ok," Tim said, already reaching to kick his closet door open to find his duffle bag. "I'll get down there as quick as I can."

"Great. Oh, and Tim," Jason said, as he was about to hang up.

"What?" Tim said.

"No homework."

"Jase, I've got a lab report due Monday," he whined.

"Ok, you can bring the lab report then. But nothing else. I'm serious, you don't have enough fun," Jason said.

"I have plenty of fun," Tim grumbled.

"Tim. Pack now, argue later. I'm hanging up," Jason said, laughing.

"Right," Tim said, hanging up. He tossed his pajamas and a couple of clean shirts into his duffle bag and scooped up the lab report materials and shoved them back into his backpack. Picking up both bags and snagging his jacket from the back of the door, he ducked out of the room. Gary was standing in the doorway of the room across the hall. "Hey, I'm gone for the weekend," he said, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah?" Gary asked, half incredulous. Tim nodded. "Well, all right then. See ya."

He nodded again and headed for the stairs. He had a feeling that Gary cursed the luck of room draw that stuck him with the 18 year old kid. It wasn't _his_ fault he was younger than everyone, he grumbled to himself as he hurried across campus to the main gates.

Lisa honked at him as soon as he came into her view. He smiled and ran over to the car. "Hey, kiddo, how's life," she said, as he slid into the passenger seat.

"Fine," he said, letting her drag him closer for a kiss on the cheek.

"That's from your mama. Who says to tell you not to work so hard. I've got your last paycheck from the summer in my purse, too, that I'm supposed to give you," she said.

"Ok, thanks," he said. "What's going on?"

She sighed. "Well, honey, I don't quite know yet. This neurologist came up to see Jason in August, and he thinks there's a surgery he can do that would help him. It's not a cure," she warned. "The best case scenario is that Jason might get his arms back, at least enough to do most self-care, possibly enough to type. Enough to make him somewhat independent, and maybe even enough to let him do some school. They're making strides with adaptive technology, you know. The computers now…"

"Right," Tim said, nodding. "But even that…"

"Even that would be a miracle," Lisa said, softly.

"What's the most likely?" Tim said. "If that's the best case, what's the most likely case?"

"That's hard to say. Maybe some arm movement. Some improvement that would allow for some gross motor skills," she replied.

Tim nodded. "Does he know?"

"Yeah," she said. "I…we're trying not to get our hopes up, but in 18 months, this is the most promising thing we've come across, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Tim said, nodding. "I do."

"I know you do, honey. You more than anyone," Lisa said. "You've worked so hard, and we're all so proud of you. Maybe, if this works, then there's hope for the rest of it."

"Or hope for more improvement later," Tim said. "What's the success rate?"

"About 60 of the patients in the previous trial had some improvement. Probably 35 total had the best recovery rate. That 35 is probably something like half of the 60. I don't know the science as well as you two, but I have to admit it sounds pretty decent to me," Lisa said.

Tim nodded. "Those are pretty decent odds."

"They sure are," she said, turning into the hospital parking garage. "So, we came down early so Jason could get some time away before the surgery. We've got tickets to a baseball game for tomorrow- don't give me that look, you're not paying for anything," she said at Tim's pained look. "One of George's coworkers has a brother who has season tickets and they're out of town this weekend. So don't worry about it."

"Sorry," he said.

"It's all right, Timmy. I know plenty well what it's like to be a starving student in the city, huh?" she said with a smile as they walked into the hospital.

"There you are!" Jason said, happily as Tim and Lisa entered his room. "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, it's great," Tim said, dumping his bag in the corner.

"I'm going to go get you boys some food. What would you like?" Lisa said.

"Can we have Italian?" Jason asked.

"Sure, honey. You want chicken parmigan?"

"Please," Jason said.

"All right, Tim, what do you want?" Lisa asked.

"Um…Carbonara?" he asked.

"Sounds good. Don't get into too much trouble, now," she said, teasingly.

"Don't worry, Mom, I'll look after the baby," Jason said. Tim just sighed. When Lisa had left, Jason asked, "Did Mom tell you about the surgery?"

"Yeah. It sounds pretty good," Tim said. "Those are pretty good success rates."

"I know. I was thinking, if I can, you know, type and stuff, and go to school, maybe by then you'll be done with your degree and we can both go somewhere for you to get your masters. Or your MD, whichever you're thinking of," Jason said. "And I can get my bachelors and it'll be almost like we'd planned."

Tim swallowed. He still got very upset when people brought up The Plan. "Masters. I don't think I want the MD."

"Masters, then. You can always get the MD later if you like," Jason reminded him.

"I know. I don't want to be a doctor. Too many people," he shrugged.

"Too much competition," Jason said, knowingly. "You never did like to compete."

"No. That's your job." Tim fiddled with his shoelaces. "Jase?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared?" He was. But then, he was scared most of the time anymore. He'd never been the confident one, never been the stable one. The crash had taken away what little confidence he'd possessed. New York City was bidding fair to eat the rest of it away. The unrelenting crowds and the claustrophobic pressure of the tall buildings wore him down.

"A little, maybe" Jason said. "But this is the best choice we've been given, so we've got to make the most of it, you know?"

"Yeah," Tim said.

"Don't be such a fussbudget!" Jason said. "Seriously, Tim, It's going to be _fine_."

"You know, you sound like my grandmother when you use words like fussbudget, right?" Tim said, looking up at his friend.

"Of course I do. That's the point," Jason replied.

"To sound like my grandmother?"

"To get you to laugh, silly. You don't have enough fun." Jason said. "College is supposed to be _fun_, Tim. You can't feel guilty all the time that you're here. And you work too damn hard."

"I do not work too hard," he said. "I work just enough, thank you."

"You don't have any friends," Jason pointed out.

"Now you sound like my mom," Tim muttered. "Jason, it's hard to have friends when you're like two years younger than everyone else. Half of the guys on my floor are old enough to go drinking already. And they do. I'm barely old enough to get into an all ages. And I hate clubs anyway."

"There are more people here than just the guys on your floor, who, granted, sound like jerks from what your mom tells me," Jason said. "And so what if you're a sophomore? Go make friends with the freshmen. They're the same age as you. Although, I don't understand why that matters all of a sudden. It never seemed to at home."

"It _did_ matter at home. It just mattered less, because there were people like you who didn't care. And because by the time we were old enough for it to really make a difference, everyone was used to it," Tim pointed out. "Besides, I don't make friends, friends make me."

"I know," Jason said. "What I'm saying is that you could try anyway."

"Wow, Mom, you've changed your hair. That color looks really good on you," Tim said, sarcastically.

"Tim…"

"Jason, I'm fine. Really. I go to class, I do my work, I _like_ it that way. I'm here to learn, right? So, I'm learning," he said.

"Fine," Jason sighed. "But I'm serious- don't put your life on hold because of me. I've been telling you that for almost two years, when is it going to sink in?"

"When it does," Tim shrugged. "You know that."

Jason sighed again. "You, Timothy Daniel Speedle, are the most stubborn person I know."

"And you love me anyway," Tim said.

"Yes, damnit, I do. This is why I'm telling you this. You understand that, right?" Jason asked.

Tim shrugged. "Sure."

"All right, then. Enough. We're supposed to have fun this weekend, remember?" Jason said, firmly. "I don't want to spend the whole time bickering about this."

"Fine," he shrugged.

"Dinner!" Lisa caroled as she came back into the room. "Tim, can you take these?" She held out the bags for him to grab and put on the table. They settled in to eat, without any more mention of Tim and Jason's prior conversation.

After a long, but very fun weekend, Tim sat with Lisa and George and Jason's sister Katie in the surgical waiting room. No one talked, but they were all aware that the longer they went without news, the better things were going. The surgery was projected to take about 8 hours. Hearing anything prior to that would mean that things were not going well. Tim tried to distract himself with his calculus homework, but it was slow-going. He sat with his head resting on his arm, looking sidelong at the paper, but not really seeing it. The whole day, he'd had this feeling that something was horribly, terribly wrong. He didn't say anything, because what could he say? What good would it do? He was probably wrong anyway.

He wasn't. The surgeon came out to see them at 3pm, a good two hours before surgery should have ended.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mackey, I'm so very sorry to have to tell you…" the surgeon said, after herding them all into a small room off of the waiting room.

"What happened?" George asked.

"Jason's heart stopped beating about an hour ago. We did everything we could to revive him, but we just couldn't. I'm afraid he's gone," the surgeon said softly.

Tim couldn't move. Couldn't think. Just stood there as Lisa, George and Katie all cried. He spun on his heel and walked out of the room, out of the hospital, where he finally fetched up against a bus stop bench and sat down.

Katie found him, maybe an hour later. "Timmy," she said, softly. He turned and looked at her with eyes red and swollen from crying. "Mom and Dad say you're to come home with us tonight. We're taking the train back. Dad says he'll take you back to school and get your stuff, and he'll go with you to talk to your professors, if you like."

He nodded, and let Katie lead him back to the hospital where George was waiting.

vvvvv

"I don't understand, how exactly was this your fault?" Calleigh asked, finally.

"It…it just is," he said. "I was the one driving. I flipped the snowmobile. I was supposed to fix it. You fix things you break," he said. "You just do. It's your responsibility."

"Tim…" Calleigh sighed.

"I may not be to blame, but I am responsible," he said.

"Ok, fine, but responsible doesn't mean…oh, never mind," she said, getting a look at his face.

"What happened then?" Horatio asked.

"Then…then, I dropped out," he sighed.

vvvvv

_September 22, 1992_

Everyone had wanted him to stay in Syracuse a little while longer. His parents said he needed time. What he really needed was to get away from them all. So after the funeral, he boarded the train back to New York.

He dragged back into the dorm around 5:30. Gary was nowhere to be found. The hallways were quiet. Dinner, he realized. He wasn't hungry. He dumped his duffle bag on his bed and looked around. He'd take the laundry to Marianne's, he decided. He didn't want to stay in the room.

He hauled the laundry basket from under the bed and dumped it into the larger duffle bag he used to transport the laundry. For the cost of subway fare, he could take all his laundry to Marianne's apartment, where she had a washer and dryer. It was cheaper than the dorm laundry room and also gave him some space. Marianne wasn't there- she was on a six month job in Europe. But she always told him to use whatever he needed from her apartment, even if she wasn't there. He had access to the building anyway, since his car was parked there. He dragged the duffle back down the stairs and out the door.

"Hello there, Mr. Speedle," the doorman said, politely as he hauled himself into the lobby of Marianne's building.

"Hi," he said, vaguely uncomfortable at being referred to as Mr. Speedle. "Does she have any packages or anything?" Every so often, Marianne would send things back to her apartment, knowing that at some point he'd be over to do laundry or use the computer and he could pick them up.

"Nope. Nothing this week," the doorman said. "You have a good night."

"Thanks," Tim said, heading for the elevators.

He unlocked the door to Marianne's apartment and tossed his laundry down by the doors to the laundry closet. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it at a kitchen chair, then dumped his laundry into the washing machine and wandered out into the living room.

The computer sat in the corner and he went over and sat down in front of it. One of the best benefits of having Marianne's apartment was getting to use the computer. He even had some computer games to play. But tonight, he didn't care about any of it. There was a file folder with some of his thesis research sitting next to the computer where he'd left it the last time he'd been over, a couple weeks ago. He bit his lip, and reached out to pick it up, but stopped. The research didn't matter anymore. The reason for it was gone. He closed his eyes and tried to will his brain to stop spinning. Jason didn't exist anymore.

The sudden lack of noise from the washer startled him into getting up to switch the laundry. Once up, he couldn't sit back down. He wandered from room to room, pacing around the small apartment. A fundamental fact of his life was no longer valid. Since he was 8 years old, Jason had been a constant. Jason, in fact, had been the major reason why life in Syracuse had been at all bearable. He stood up for Tim, made sure people didn't push him around. His parents let Tim escape to their house when things got tense and wearisome at his home. It was an open secret that Lisa would phone his parents if he ran away to Jason's house, and there was a tacit agreement among all parties that Tim was permitted to stay as long as he needed to. His parents figured it beat not knowing where he was. Lisa and George figured it was better to give him a safe place to go than to just let him roam the streets, like he tended to do. None of that was true anymore.

The buzzer on the dryer startled him again and he folded his clothes with shaky hands. He didn't think he could stand New York without a purpose. The only reason he'd gone to Columbia was because some of the best biochemistry researchers taught there. And because it was just a train ride home. He could have gone to Berkeley- he would have, if Jason had been able to go with him. New York was too hard. The city ate you. He was afraid if he stayed, there wouldn't be anything left of him.

_So, go, get out_, his brain chorused. He could leave. The car was here. He had his paycheck from the summer in his jacket pocket. There was money in his savings account. He could finally really run away, something he'd been half trying to do since he was four. He was 18, they couldn't stop him anymore. That thought stopped him in his tracks. He was 18. He was an adult. No one could stop him anymore. They couldn't even make him come home if they did find him. He'd only been 18 for just about three months. He hadn't even _done_ anything with it yet. He could go and not look back.

He paced another tight circle around the living room, thinking hard. This time was different. Maybe…maybe just for a little while. New York buzzed around him, and he couldn't think here. Syracuse hurt too much. Leaving would be good, he decided.

Once decided, he moved quickly. He grabbed the laundry basket of clothes and his duffle bag. He tossed the handful of books he had left over here into the duffle bag. His hands hesitated over the research papers, bringing him to a stand-still. He never wanted to look at the data again. "I could throw it off a bridge," he said, startling himself with his voice in the silent apartment. Yes, he could throw it off a bridge. Or off a cliff. Or into the ocean. Something, somewhere. He could leave it all behind. The file folder got crammed into the duffle bag, too.

Without further hesitation, he pulled his jacket on and locked up the apartment. He took the elevator to the garage and got into the car, putting the basket and the duffle in the backseat. He turned on the ignition and didn't look back.

vvvvv

"Where did you go?" Calleigh asked.

He shook his head. "Honestly, I don't really remember. I don't…most of what happened after that is a complete blur. I just sort of drifted around. At the time, I really did believe I'd go throw the folder off a cliff somewhere and turn around and go home."

"But you didn't," Horatio said.

"No." He was quiet a long moment. "At some point, I got it in my head that a good place to go would be California. I don't know, maybe because we'd thought about Berkeley? It had been Jason's first choice. I didn't care, so long as it wasn't Syracuse. So I went to California. But by the time I got there, I didn't know what to do anymore. California might have been scarier than New York. I remember standing in the ocean and just staring at the horizon."

"Did you throw the folder away?" Calleigh asked.

He almost smiled. "No. Somehow, it got buried in the bottom of the laundry basket. And it seemed less important after the first day or so. I never threw it away. It's still in the bottom of my dresser."

"How much money did you have?" Horatio asked.

"Not a lot. Just barely enough to get me to California, but not enough to get back even if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to. I bussed tables for enough money to put gas in the car and keep going. I did that a lot. I'd go until I was out of money and then I'd find someplace that would pay me under the table. It's not hard to do, really. Most of the places were small, truck stop type places. No one notices you, no one pays attention, and no one blinks if you're there one day and gone the next," he shrugged.

"How long…how long were you out there?" Calleigh asked.

He sighed. "I'm not entirely sure. More than a year, I know that, but I've never added it up. I remember a summer, I think. And then I remember heading south again when it got cold, so that would have been at least a year. It was September when I left New York. I'm sort of thinking it was February when I got to Miami, but I don't know for sure. So…" He counted on his fingers, frowning. "17 months? 18 months? Something like that? Alexx would know. She doesn't know what happened, I never told her, but she was there when I got to Miami. She probably knows what month that was. Megan would know, too."

"You met Megan in Miami, then," Horatio said.

"I met Sean. He took me to Megan," he said, nodding. "Who pretty much handed me to Alexx, for lack of a better idea."

"How did that happen?" Calleigh asked.

He sighed. "Most of it is foggy," he warned. "But I was getting tired, I think. I don't know that I would have let him catch me, otherwise."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He laughed, but the laughter was more than half bitter. "I was working at a bar, illegally, mind you, and it happened to be one that Sean and some of his friends frequented after work. Maybe the third time he came in while I was there, I caught him staring at me outright, like he was trying to decide if I was underage or not. That made me nervous, because I was. I'd about made up my mind that it was time to move on, anyway, so when the bartender paid me that night, I planned to just skip town. Especially if someone who was probably a cop was checking me out. I hadn't been caught yet, and I didn't plan to be. But Sean was waiting for me when I stepped outside…."

vvvvv

_February, 1994_

He stepped out into the brighter alley and blinked a moment to catch his bearings. The car was parked in a store parking lot a couple of blocks from here. He was pretty sure that no one had noticed him leaving, which was a relief. He started walking towards the street, and didn't even notice the man standing at the mouth of the alley until a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. He was so startled he didn't even shout.

"Hey, it's ok, I'm not going to hurt you," the man said. "Really. I just want to know something."

Tim looked at him warily. It was the guy he'd pegged as a cop from the end of the bar. He thought about trying to twist away, but was afraid that the cop might hurt him for resisting arrest or something. "You're a cop?" he asked.

"Well, yes, I am. I'll show you my badge if you promise you won't run," the man replied.

Tim didn't reply for a moment. "I won't run if you won't arrest me," he said, finally.

"Why would I arrest you? You have to have a reason, you know," the man said, in a reasonable tone. Tim glanced back at the alleyway. "Working under the table doesn't count, kid. How do I know you're not going to pay your taxes? Besides, I'm not the IRS. And I didn't see you steal anything on the way out. I've got no cause to search you, so if you've got drugs on you, I can't touch them anyway, unless you're stupid enough to show them to me, and I somehow doubt you are. I didn't see you drink anything, so I can't even get you on underage drinking."

"How do you know I'm underage?" Tim countered.

"Lucky guess," the man said, sardonically, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously, though, you're not under arrest. I just want to ask you a question. I ask, you answer, and that's the end of it, if you want."

Tim thought about it a moment. "Ok," he said finally. "What's the question?"

"Are you Tim Speedle?"

Of all the questions, it was the one he was least expecting. He just blinked, feeling the color drain from his face. "How…"

"Apparently, yes," the man nodded. "I'm Sean Donner, by the way," he said, tightening his hold on Tim's arm as Tim felt his knees buckling underneath him. "Look, why don't we sit down on this bench here," he said, steering Tim towards the bench.

"How in the hell do you know my name?" Tim demanded as he found his voice again.

Sean smiled. "I'm Marianne Reiner's step-brother."

Tim frowned, thinking. "Yeah, ok," he said, finally, remembering that Marianne's parents had been divorced. He'd never met any of her family at all that he could remember. She could well have a step-brother named Sean for all he knew. It would be nearly impossible to pull those names out of thin air unless this Sean Donner really did know Marianne, so it was probably legitimate, he decided.

"When you went missing, your family contacted everyone they knew with your description," Sean explained. "I've had it in the back of my brain ever since. When I saw you, I wondered. You look a hell of a lot like Marianne, you know."

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Anyway, there's some people who have been really very worried about you, you know."

He shrugged again. "So?"

"So, maybe you ought to let them know you're alive, at least," Sean shrugged. Tim didn't reply. "Look, tell you what. You look like you could use a hot meal and a good night's sleep. Why don't I take you home with me, and you can at least get that much. If you don't want to call home, you don't have to, for tonight, anyway. We can discuss it more in the morning, ok?"

Tim worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "And if I don't want anyone to know where I am?"

"I won't call anyone tonight," Sean promised. "And if I call after you take off again, it's not like I'm going to be able to tell them where you went, so they still won't know where to find you. The only thing that will be different from now is that your family will know you're ok. And really, I think that's what they want to know the most- that you're alive and you're ok."

"All right," he relented.

"Ok, good," Sean said, sounding relieved. "If you want, we can even take your car, if you have one."

Tim thought about that. "Yeah, ok." He stood up and started walking towards the car. Sean followed, content to let him lead in silence.

vvvvv

"So, that's how you met Sean and Megan," Horatio said, nodding.

"Yeah. We agreed that if I called home, they'd let me stay with them for awhile. I was tired. The car needed some work. And really, I was just done. I didn't know that at the time, but looking back, I was ready to stop."

"What happened then?" Calleigh asked. "I mean, you must have finished school, right?"

Tim nodded. "Alexx and Megan talked me into going back to school- Megan promised if I got my degree, she'd find me a job. They and Marianne and my parents kind of went to bat for me with Columbia and talked them into taking me back with my scholarship money. I already had junior class status, since I had nearly my entire freshman year's worth of credits by the time I finished high school, so it only took about a year to finish. I went back to Miami, went through the limited academy program, and passed my Level 1 about six months after graduation."

"So that's how you graduated early," Calleigh said, referring to a conversation they'd had before.

"That's how I graduated early," he nodded. "Just not in the way you thought I did."

"You worked hard, though," Calleigh said. "I don't know that I could have made Level 1 by the time I was 21."

He shrugged. "I needed something to do."

Horatio nodded. "I remember that."

"I know," Tim said. "You were there."

"I was fraying at the edges, yes," Horatio said, ruefully. "You weren't a complication I was prepared to deal with."

"I didn't know any better," Tim shrugged. "I was used to people misestimating me."

"Still, Megan should never have had me try to train you. She wound up having to do it herself anyway," Horatio replied.

"It worked out," Tim said. "It's fine."

They were all quiet for a moment. "I'm tired," Tim said, finally.

"I bet you are," Calleigh replied. "How does your mouth feel?"

"Hurts, some," he said, shrugging. "My stomach, too," he admitted.

"I'm not surprised, I think that's more than you've talked at one time for months and months. Before you were hurt, even." she said. He nodded. "There's an exit coming up, you want to wait until we get there and can get you something to eat before you take something?" He nodded again. She exchanged a look of agreement with Horatio. "Ok, then. You just relax. It's over now, huh?"

"Yeah. It is." He felt relieved, despite the pain. Things felt lighter, somehow. He could feel that calm place again, the one where everything was quiet inside his head. It was a wonderful feeling. He leaned back and closed his eyes, just enjoying the calmness and quietude.

End.

* * *

AN: So, here we are at the end of this long ride. Thanks for reading! I make no promises just yet, but it's entirely possible that there may be further adventures in store for our crew... 


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